Star Wars 1. Prologue: The Big Bang

CMC

By: Sapadu

A/N: ALLRIGHT! So, I've started re-editing this old fic... it started off as JUST a fanfiction of the Count of Monte Cristo taking place in Star Wars... my god, what have I DONE?

So, yes – I'm revising these chapters and touching things up as we go... because this damn thing has taken me six years to write, and in that time, my skill as a writer, my influences in writing, and my ideas and perspectives have changed. They probably will still continue to evolve, but right now, the shift is so radical that I really did need to go in and adjust this. To start, major plotholes and dangling characters and ideas will be fixed. For another, themes will be adjusted to consistent levels. Finally... I'll be getting rid of the Author's Notes I made through most of these, because I'm rereading and seeing just how obnoxious they can be. If there are things you notice that seem like glaring errors or that stand out, particularly, feel free to PM me and I'll take your input into account while I'm doing these edits so... yeah, here we go!

Prologue: The Big Bang – A theoretical explosion that created all space, matter, and time as we know it.

It was amazing- Mara had never really wondered what death felt like to people who were poisoned. The times when she had rarely tried to imagine it, she's always thought of poison being like acid that burned you inside and out.

Apparently, poisons that caused paralysis were base types.

First, her fingertips went numb. Then, all feeling in them ceased, as her knuckle joints felt the same numbness. Her toes were going through the same treatment, only quicker, as the digits were shorter.

All the while, those horrible, horrible eyes were staring down at her. Haughty. Jeering.

Triumphant.

The brown eyes of her nephew had turned into the red and yellow eyes of her worst nightmare.

She could feel it- the boy who had once been Jacen had been pushed aside and replaced by this monster. And now, Mara could feel his exalted glee and pride that he had toppled her, like the proverbial cat that ate the canary in a very well-guarded cage.

The poison made it's last rounds into her inner organs, paralyzing even her involuntary muscles, as though it was saving the best for last. Mara forced her jaw to move, just as the poison closed in on her heart and lungs.

"You're just as vile as he was..." She whispered.

The self-satisfied look on Jacen's face faded.

"Who?" He asked, as though he almost feared the answer.

Mara couldn't smile, but she knew what she was going to say- dying or not, she was still Mara Jade Skywalker, damn it. Death was no defeat- not if she could take down her enemy with her... at least, in a sense.

"...Palpatine..." She breathed.

That one word, and Mara could feel a shock wave of anger, and then frustration, go through Jacen's whole body at that moment- anger at her words, anger at the truth behind them, and frustration that he had be trumped by her, despite the fact that she was dying.

In terms of the game, Mara knew she'd won.

Her heart stopped.

And Mara sent a wave through the Force to her beloved son and husband, as though running a hand over Luke's hair, and whispering one last word to her son.

~.~.~.~

Becoming one with the Force, oddly enough, felt far different from anything Mara had believed. It was as though she wasn't Mara Jade Skywalker – or, for that matter, Mara Jade, or anyone else, anymore. Everything else seemed somehow a part of her, and she could see – even though she had no eyes – every star as it's own little birth of fire and gases, as it was, as it burnt out and disappeared; every planet as its waters ran dry and became cold and barren, but as the first of plants and creatures began to crawl along; she could hear – despite there being no sound – each whisper, word, cry, laugh of every living thing; and even the crackle of fires that burned, or the gusts of wind, or even the pop of the cessation of noise as though traveling from a planet's surface into the outermost reaches of space in a second.

And she knew...

"This isn't what I wanted... I wish... I wish all this could have been stopped."

"I'll grant that wish. No matter what it takes."

And then...


	2. Chapter 1: Chaos Theory

CMC

By: Sapadu

Chapter 1: Chaos Theory – Tiny changes in circumstance can have major ramifications later on, but patterns do still emerge from so-called chaos.

It was upon the event of the eighth year celebration of Ben Skywalker that a venture to a festival on the Bright Jewel system was arranged. It had been the suggestion of Jacen that, in lieu of the current difficulties the beleaguered Skywalker parents were having with politics and settlement of the Jedi Order's place in a Republic recovering from the Yuzuhan Vong War, combined with their son's rejection of the Force, it might be conducive to Ben's well-being, as a Jedi, to spend some recreational time with his two cousins, as well as serving an educational experience to learn about different customs in a system other than his home planet. Thus, with the chaperone of a protocol droid, C-3PO and the sponsors of the voyage, Jacen and Jaina Solo, Ben found himself in a whirl of gaiety on the Heart of the Bright Jewel sector – Ord Mantell. And this, gentle readers, is where we shall begin.

~.~.~

"What makes the clouds look so pink like that?"

"Ben..."

"Are we gonna see a real savrip? I thought they were supposed to be everywhere, here. Like, isn't there supposed to be a zoo or circus attraction, at least?"

"...Ben..."

"Is that where they're rebuilding the Jubilee Wheel? Can we go see it?"

"Be~en..."

"Where're all the buildings? I don't see any walkways or anything around here!"

"BEN! BREATHE FOR A MOMENT!"

The festivities had reached their third stage by the touchdown time of the transport from Coruscant, but as there still remained a week of carnival to attend, none aboard could be disappointed for long. From the eventful first moment the trio – or, in all fairness, quartet, though a chaperone such as C-3PO doesn't count for much, especially as he had a tendency to detract from the enjoyability of the carnival, rather than add to it – set foot on the planet's surface, Ben had begun looking everywhere, jaw permanently unhinged and far too many questions for his cousins' comfort spilling out all at once. Jacen found them spots on a float which was already crowded, but most all of the other passengers were so inebriated that none cared when four extra bodies – one of which was clearly too underage to be at such a debauch – squeezed into a seat.

This left Jaina the responsibility of finding drinks for herself and her twin. Needless to say, she rather resented the lack of challenge.

"Here." She shoved a glass of something that was most likely not to Jacen's taste into his hands, "Just don't ask where the cup's been." Jacen shrugged, remarkably somber for being the one to have suggested this excursion, but took a sip anyway.

"Can't be worse than some of the other questionable sources we've had to procure food and water from before." He commented, pointedly. Really, Jaina wondered, if he was so unhappy to be at a carnival, why did he bother taking time off from his sabbatical to explore other schools of Force-study? Why'd he even bother suggesting they come all this way out here when she still had duties to the Order, and there were still areas of the galaxy that needed aid and support in the aftermath of a war? "Remember Zonama Sekot?"

Jaina took a long swig, directly from the bottle, "If you didn't want to drink, you could have just said so."

"I didn't... Jaina, I want everyone to have a good time – I was just as busy as you were when I pulled away for this." Jacen sighed, phlegmatically.

"Then, why'd you come, at all?" Instead of snapping, Jaina feigned disinterest in her own question, instead taking her seat again and putting her attention on a surprisingly muscular, shirtless creature that was humanoid enough to be of passing interest, but vague enough that she couldn't tell if it was male or female. Either way, it was a good show. When Jacen didn't answer, Jaina glanced over to see him also staring in the same general direction, but as though his pupils were somehow too dilated for him to really see anything.

"...Ben needs us. I figured it would be best to spend time with him for a little while and make sure he was doing okay." Was his response, so painfully bored that Jaina didn't believe it for a second. And if that really was the case, why was Jacen so worried about Ben, who hadn't even been old enough to remember Jacen before he'd left, but didn't think for a moment about anyone else? Because, obviously, it wasn't like the only sibling she had left just deciding to depart for an unknown amount of time to Maker-knows-where had scared Jaina at all – no, no that couldn't have POSSIBLY happened.

"Well, so long as spending time together is an obligation – I'd hate to think it was because you were enjoying yourself or you LIKED anyone in our immediate family..." Not that she was bitter or anything. Because Jaina was sure she didn't sound like it. Because she wasn't. Jacen shot Jaina a look that she didn't see as she took another swig and looked over to see Ben staring at the both of them, those blue, Skywalker eyes as wide and round as any child's ever got. She'd be lying to say she hadn't missed them, nor the astounded curiosity in them.

"You guys are so WIERD!" Ben finally said, grinning impishly. Jaina turned to Jacen for a moment, and then the both of them reached over and hauled Ben out of his seat and wedged him between them, both of them administering some form of playful, childish torture on their baby cousin. Threepio stood over the three of them, protesting the rough treatment and oblivious to the fact that Ben was enjoying it just as much as he struggled to free himself from Jacen's headlock.

~.~.~

Really, Jacen's plan had gone off without a single hiccup. After ten minutes, Jacen had had another drink, Jaina had to fight to get a second, much more difficult bottle, and Ben willingly let his arms dangle over the side of the float and just listened to the cacophony of noise being raised by other festiviants. The fact that everyone else in the crowd was so focused on just having a good time also didn't hurt – it buzzed on Ben's senses like having a whole swarm of bees happily dancing just close enough that he could feel the hairs on his skin standing up.

And that was when he saw her – felt her, really, because she was the only person, like himself, not shouting, screaming, or throwing anything as they enjoyed the carnival. She certainly stuck out, like a little hole in otherwise solid, bumpy – sharp, Ben thought, as someone accidentally elbowed him in the ribs and their apology was swallowed by the din of the crowd – ground, the only spot of complete quiet while everyone else was making a racket. Not only that, but she looked different enough to stick out, impressively. She couldn't have been that much older than he was – maybe that's why she stood out so much, because she was the only other real kid here – and she looked as though she'd never seen the light of a sun before, her skin was so pale and her hair was so white. She looked soft, like the fluffy white fur of a stuffed toy. Her bright eyes – so green that Ben wondered if it was even natural – were fixed on his face with such intensity that Ben couldn't help but feel her gaze. When she threw something at him, Ben didn't even think for a moment to not reach out and catch it – he hardly even needed to see what it was, or even the movement of her arm to know that it was coming. With a soft rustling noise, Ben caught what appeared to be a bouquet of pale blue, flower-shaped candles and fabricated green leaves. Ben remained on his feet, trying to keep eye contact with the girl for as long as possible, but the float moved on and she disappeared into the crowd and the noise as quickly as she'd come.

"Ben, where'd you get those?" Jaina sounded vaguely suspicious as they piled out of the float once it reached the end of it's line. Threepio was complaining noisily about being rattled so much, about the unruly behavior of every other occupant on the float, and about where, precisely were they headed next when they didn't even have reservations in any rooms? Jaina was somehow completely upright, but looked as though someone had just injected an extra liter or two of blood into the skin on her face, and several strings of fake gems on cheap necklaces slung about her neck. Even Jacen seemed to be wobbling a little, "You can never be to careful with these strange plants – no matter how pretty they look, they could be poisonous, or have tendrils that reach over and choke you while you sleep, or teeth on the insides of their leaves and you never know until you lose a finger, then it's a hand, and then, while you're panicking..." Jaina paused to put a hand over her mouth for a moment.

"Jaina. I think they're fake." Jacen pointed out as he poked one of the 'buds' and it left an impression of his fingernail in the wax.

"...Oh." Jaina shook her head, "Never mind."

"But where DID you find those, anyway, Ben? They look way too nice for someone to have just set down or lost by accident." Jacen immediately returned. In response, Ben clutched the bouquet closer to his chest.

"A girl threw them to me." He said, resisting the urge to add 'They're mine, so there!'

"...A girl? Who?"

"I dunno – someone we passed by on the float." Admittedly, Ben could already see his argument leading to something kind of bad – a complete stranger just giving out gifts in a crowded place like this. Even his dad wouldn't let that go without some discussion, and his mom would probably want to dust said gift for fingerprints, just in case.

"...Ben..." Jaina started, but Jacen elbowed her and gestured to the beads she had around her neck. "Fine. But if you can carry that, you can handle your own luggage, too." Oh yeah... Ben had more or less forgotten, but Jacen pushing the satchel which Ben had packed for this trip into his arms quickly reminded him. He shrugged and slung the heavy parcel over his shoulder before Jacen and Jaina started shuffling him along, out of the crowd.

"Where we going next?" He asked, hanging onto Jaina's elbow as she kept leaning on Jacen to stop from over balancing.

"Somewhere." Jacen said, his lips twitching into a grin, "You'll see when we get there."

~.~.~

Somewhere, as it turned out, was at just about every sideshow or vendor that had been crammed into the streets of the city. Virtually every stretch of duracrete and footpaths had been crammed with performers – at one point, Jacen stopped everyone to watch a supposed magic show that was so blatantly fake, even Ben could see the holoprojectors hidden up the man's sleeves – and to make matters worse, it was impossible to maneuver around the swells of people without somehow being squished. Nearly everything was decked out in some kind of adornment, whether it be colored, folded flimisplast, flickering lights, or floating balloons in any manner of outrageous shapes, and that was only the buildings or stalls. The people were a different matter entirely – one which Ben was kind of glad that Jaina and Jacen kept turning him in every which way to keep him from coming into contact with anyone, even if it meant he kept getting squished.

"Um... why don't we go down that other street if you don't want to bump into anyone?" Ben asked as Jacen navigated him through a crowd of giggling ladies – in the loosest possible sense of the word – that had clustered around a boy doing caricature sketches.

"Trust me, Ben – you're not going down THOSE streets until you're thirty if your parents and us have anything to say about it." Jaina responded, leading the charge and shedding her jacket as she did. By which, Ben could only assume Jacen and Jaina thought there was too much nudity on other streets.

"Can't be much worse than here..." Ben grumbled, especially as someone almost over balanced and Jacen steered him around stepping on someone whom was almost certainly sporting more jewelry and makeup than actual clothing. Threepio was either missing from the group, or was so scandalized by the overwhelming spectacle that his programming had long since shut down to prevent a short-circuit.

Either way, it had been eventful enough that, by the time lights had turned on over the streets and Jaina had shed her boots and Jacen was actually unsteady enough that Ben kept having to push him back upright, the decision was made to find a room for the night.

It was there, in the domed lobby of a hotel, was where the evening really got interesting. And Ben had seen both his cousins get quite inebriated and at least a dozen complete strangers with no shirts in the last hour of the day.

"Not even any single rooms? We could probably even sleep on the floor, if you have a common sleeping area." Jaina was asking the clerk as Ben sat on probably the only empty seat in the lobby with their luggage. He could see the concierge – a droid with a model not terribly unlike Threepio's, but faceless and with a single appendage to pass through the drop slot in the glass – responded almost exactly like Threepio might have, with a huff as though it was offended that Jaina thought the hotel was so low-class that it had such a thing as a communal sleeping room. In fact, it pointed out, such things were unheard of on most civilized worlds when the Yuzuhan Vong War ended. There was, after all, no need for establishments to be so crowded when there was no need to provide mass shelter for civilians.

"In that case, what about other hotels in the city?" Jaina asked. The concierge droid maintained it's miffed air as it politely – technically – informed her that there weren't any openings in any establishment within the city limits, "You've got to be kidding – not even a shiprest port? Any cruisers in orbit that we could take a shuttle up to for the night?" The answer didn't seem any closer to something manageable than before – if anything, the droid seemed to be bordering on outright telling Jaina that, even if such an option was available, it wasn't about to send guests away, "This is such bull-"

"Jaina, this is our own fault for not planning ahead – don't take it out on the droid." Jacen put in, as though he'd been denied the opportunity to speak up before, while Jaina was having her long conversation, aplentied with pauses, with the droid.

As fascinating as the dilemma was – or, at least, as fascinating as any eight-year-old boy might find the adults making travel arrangements could ever be – Ben was more interested in looking around and observing the further spectacle of other occupants. There was a restaurant whose pub opened into the lobby accumulating a crowd of spectacularly decorated creatures, either in costumes or of a bizarre nature that blended into their clothing. Security droids rolled about the lobby, occasionally pausing to escort some creature with a few too many stray credit chips in his pockets out the door, or pull a lump of limbs, skin, and clothes off of a body that was making a seat rock. And it was all so noisy... until...

Ben couldn't say when they appeared, but when he saw a pair of people standing in the middle of the lobby, he could have sworn they'd materialized out of nowhere. The gentleman was tall – towering, even – at least twice the height of the lady at his side, and with skin that was tanned, freckled and lined as leather appears after a decent tanning and white hair falling over a broad, flat forehead and hooked nose.

But the lady was what made Ben stare. Logically, sensibly, Ben knew that she was nothing outstanding – there were probably women just like her everywhere back home – save for the silence around her. It was eerily similar to the girl he'd seen on the float, only so much more pronounced that it seemed to envelope him, pushing back all the other noise in the room, and thus, the more Ben stared, the more he found intriguing enough to continue his inspection. Perhaps it was her dress – all black and slitted in the skirt and sleeves to allow silvery-gray frills to spill out – that was extraordinarily common among all the costumes he'd seen that day, but that hung on the woman's tiny frame as though it were a skin that she slipped into and out of with daily routine. Or perhaps it was her manner, being surrounded by oddities, frivolity, and chaos, and instead of being overwhelmed as either Ben or any of the other visitors were, seemed to be perfectly at rights with herself.

Whatever the case, Ben's eyes remained fixed on her, and perceiving every movement as she spoke with the gentleman in her company, until she turned. It was as though, rather than being a mere distant observer, Ben had been close and defenseless to the motion as the woman's eyes – wide and almond-shaped and a bright, brilliant gray – landed on him and opened fully. It was the tiniest, most subtle of movements but changed her expression so completely. Ben felt as though he'd been hit full-on in the face with something dense as the woman turned, bodily, and strode towards him, almost as though their faces had a magnetic connection that stopped him from tearing his gaze away from any little detail – the curve of her cheeks into her jaw, the flat the bridge of her nose, the smooth curve of her chin to her throat, the sweep of her dark hair in a fringe over her brow and into the twisted braids over her ears. It didn't even occur to Ben to be startled until that face was level with his as the woman knelt. Up close, her eyes seemed less a normal gray and more like polished, reflective silver.

"The hour is so late for one so young." Even her voice had something queer about it, something that Ben had no words to describe in his vocabulary, "Might I be so bold as to inquire – what occupation could you have as to be out here, alone, young sir?" Dazed as though struck with another blow to the face, Ben blinked for a moment before it occurred to him that he was, in fact, the young sir she was speaking to.

"...I'm not alone." Ben finally managed. There was no mistaking this sensation for exactly like that of the girl in the parade – a parallel that made Ben feel somewhat more at ease with recognizing it in another person, but also made him clutch the candle-flowers tightly. It wasn't, after all, as though this strange lady might find anything more valuable in the other belongings Ben had been set to watch, "They're just getting a room for us, over there."

The lady straightened up, following Ben's direction with her eyes. A single finger raised to rest on her chin before the woman turned back to Ben and offered him a hand.

"By my estimation, it is a room they are having difficulty procuring. Let us go and provide assistance as it may be required." Before his own common sense could argue, Ben was on his feet and following the lady in black towards the desk. On his feet, he could see that this strange woman was only the least bit taller than he was, and barely came up to Jaina's shoulder as they approached his cousins. "If I might intrude upon your discussion, perchance – is this little treasure yours, Madame and Monsieur?" One of her gloved hands, small and fragile, pressed into Ben's back and pushed him forward, interrupting Jaina's debate with the clerk of whether they could speak with a manager, or at least a sentient being. Jacen glanced away, long enough for Ben to see a puzzled, then leery expression cross his features. Why, Ben couldn't imagine.

"…Yes – why, was he bothering you?" Jaina straightened up, and then almost jumped when her eyes landed on Ben. Really, Ben thought when her next reaction was to grab him by the arm and yank him towards her, he didn't see what they were being so touchy about.

"I wasn't DOING anything!" Ben protested, even as Jaina pulled him tightly against her side. Maybe, if he'd been yelling or running around – unlikely, from the throbbing ache in his feet and how his legs didn't seem to want to move - or had been brought over by a patrol, he might understand why they were so mad. This lady was just being nice, and he had just been sitting with the luggage.

The strange lady in black giggled, her gloved hands going up to cup the lower half of her face and obscure the smile. It was kind of odd to see, since Ben found himself wondering what she looked like, normally.

"Not to be contrary, but I could see quite plainly that the young one was alright. It was this I was referring to-" She gestured and when Ben followed her hand with his eyes, the fussy droid that had been lost in the crowd earlier was standing directly behind the lady in black, "His claim referred to you as his companion party, but he lacked any connexion to you. I merely wished to provide any assistance possible."

"Master Jacen, Mistress Jaina, how could you LEAVE me like that? All those crowds, half of them were so noisy I could barely process half the noise, the other half kept trying to pull me apart, and I was jeered at and poked and pushed and pulled every which way and I kept trying to say that I already had a master, but you were nowhere to be found and…"

"Oh, hush – you're fine now, aren't you?" Jacen drawled, as though to say 'You interrupted our important conversation for THIS?' to the lady who'd brought Threepio back over. Ben didn't say anything – he was leaning on Jaina, suddenly more aware of how heavy every muscle in his body felt, now that he was standing up and wanted so very, very badly to be at least sitting down somewhere.

"And what are you going to do NOW? Every place in the city is overcrowded – it shall STAY that way for at least another week, and what will any of us do for a room, tonight? Even hotels that allow patrons to sleep in their lobbies are unable to accommodate any other occupants!" Ben wasn't as used to Threepio like Jaina and Jacen supposedly were, so he wasn't quite able to tune him out the same way they were, and these questions did seem fairly serious. If Jacen and Jaina had been more tense – he could feel them, feel that they were at least unhappy, but it definitely could have been worse – he might have been a little tempted to panic.

"We're working on that." Jaina snapped, impatiently, and shooting a glare at the desk clerk, which was silent and unmoving as though their conversation wasn't even registering, "Now, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I need to speak to speak with someONE with more authority in this matter, please."

The droid instantaneously replied that, since it could tell Jaina was unhappy, she should use the communication hololink and register a formal complaint, but it was clearly not going to find a person for her to speak to.

"Is there a directory of transport stations, at least?" Jacen finally asked, "If we can't find a room, then we can manage there for a night or two – at least it's shelter of some kind." And to that, the droid was clearly not going to even acknowledge the question.

All this time, Ben hung on Jaina's arm, about ready to fall asleep, but still watching the strange lady. She hadn't even budged from her spot, as though she were waiting for something, and Ben was the only one who saw her face as she stood, listening and watching. He could see her eyes fix on Jacen, then on Jaina, then back, and could practically feel the laser precise heat from her stare, and when Jacen said 'transport station', he could see her mouth tighten. It was a little weird, seeing someone's face move so little, but seem to say so much, and yet nothing at all. With Jacen and Jaina, or even the complete strangers that were drinking and dancing all around in the festival, at least Ben could understand what they meant when they either laughed or shouted or glared, to the point that he barely noticed their expressions. Technically, this woman's face moved even less than his cousin's and he saw every centimeter of it, but he had no idea what any of it meant.

"Begging all pardons..." She finally spoke up, and given the way Jacen both looked at her, and from what Ben could feel, he had thought the woman was gone. Ben could even tell that Jacen was even more surprised that he WAS surprised, "...I simply need a copy of my key, if it would not be objectionable to you."

Jaina was the one who huffed, but still pulled Ben over to the side and more or less nudged Jacen away from the counter. Ben saw tiny, silver-tipped heels peek out from under the train of her skirt as she stood on the very tips of her toes to be visible to the droid and make her request. The clerk intoned that it would need to have a manager present to authenticate the process. Ben could feel Jaina snort, as though she wanted to shout something, but had neither the air nor patience to find words. Both she and Jacen had this aura of warm, prickly irritation rolling off of them, like someone had managed to boil the points of pins into a liquid.

"You needed a key copied? What for?" The manager that appeared had a lined, darkly-spotted face, one that was obviously long estranged from his beloved slumber.

"For the members of my party that have only arrived just now." The lady in black intoned, sweetly, "We had a trifle with the different transports and, rather than postpone and hazard checking-in after we recovered, I simply thought it would be more prudent to have copies of keys made once they arrived."

Ben felt a jump in Jaina's mood that matched a quick plummet in Jacen's, as though they were matching halves of an elliptical circle divided perfectly into two. He could even feel the sharp peaks in the manager as he reviewed the records, then squinted at the strange lady so much that it made his eyes look as though they were encircled in a mask of bruised skin.

"You didn't make any mention of having more members to your party joining you later when you checked in." He grumbled, that same tone to his voice as when Jacen had first addressed this same lady.

"Did I not? How clumsy of my memory, to let such an important duty slip through!" The lady's voice went up in pitch and her eyes grew impossibly wide. As though compensating for that, the manager's eyes narrowed, "But that is neither here nor there – we now have the three young people in question and they shall need copies if they are to enjoy the same freedom the rest of us had upon check-in."

Wait, Ben thought, had she been talking about them? When he glanced up, he could see the lady in black holding one arm across her body with her palm pointing in their direction. The same leap and dive that he'd felt in Jaina and Jacen before now seemed even stronger, more solid, and Ben felt an energy reverberate in the both of them. So, were they happy or was there something bad about this that Ben didn't see? He honestly couldn't tell, because everything was so muddled. The fact that he could barely keep his eyes open and was just waiting for any kind of place to lay down might have slightly impaired his ability to think, in this regard.

"So, you're asking me to just look the other way while you let unregistered people into one of my rooms and fraud me out of space?" The manager asked, his voice low and rather akin to a noise found in some carnivorous mammals. The lady in black giggled, and again hid the entire lower half of her face behind her hands.

"Oh, think not so ill – I merely noticed that you have three-hundred and twenty-seven rooms in this building, and three-hundred and twenty-six of them are occupied. The last one is a singlet, which you have customers willing to pay for, as the customary price for singlets in this establishment goes." With an exaggerated flourish, the lady in black pulled a credit chip from the silver-embroidered breast pocket of her blouse, and held it between two fingers in front of her face, "The only tiny detail is that this available room is attached to three others of its kin by a sitting room, for which there is only one door that requires a common key. I merely suggest that you make the economical decision that any reasonable businessman would find both logical and practical."

She finished speaking, dramatically lowering the chip to reveal her eyes. For a second, Ben could see her gazing, half with a look that was soft and girlish, but half with something hard and sharp and cold, straight at the manager. There was another moment when Ben could feel the manager – like a million sharp knife-points were jutting out from him in anger and defense – before it was immediately smoothed away and the man smiled.

"Why, of course." He didn't even reach over for the credit chip as the lady in black slid it across the counter, "I'll just get those copies for you."

In the end, there would be a warm bed to sleep in, and they'd be up in the morning like nothing had happened. With that reassurance, Ben closed his eyes and let his weight carry him into Jaina's ribcage. Just as he'd suspected – there'd been nothing to worry about.

~.~.~

Once the manager disappeared behind the counter, Jacen reached over and put a hand quite firmly on this strange woman's shoulder. It was, he reasoned, just enough to both attract her attention and send a message.

"Excuse me but what the hell are you pulling?" Jaina spoke up before he could compose a question of further consequence – or, at least, one that sounded more dignified. Or one that might have prevented the woman's reaction, as she whirled about and brushed Jacen's hand from her shoulder and flat-out glared at the both of them.

"I might be so inclined to demand such an answer from you – are you two really so short-sighted? You have a boy with you – not even ten years of age, at most – and your design is to sleep in a public station, completely exposed to the mercy of the strangers about you? Have you no sense? Have you no shame?"

In all logical sense, Jacen knew that it wasn't anywhere near as bad as this lady was making it out to be – he and Jaina could have taken turns standing watch, and the worst they would have had to worry about was a pickpocket or bounty hunter.

That being said, he guessed, they weren't in a war, or a battle, or an invasion, so such reactions and ideas probably did stand out a lot, and, if Jacen thought about it, probably not necessary. At the very least, a complete stranger being willing to extend a generous hand to them made more sense.

"So, we're supposed to be at the mercy of you – whom we don't know and who just offers us help?" Jacen managed to ask. Jaina gave him a look that he ignored – she was, after all, the one who'd been arguing with a droid when she had no chance to win. The woman in black huffed, the same haughty tone to her voice that Jacen recognized from Threepio.

"I make no demand that you trust me, nor accept my offer – that is your prerogative – but I should hope the welfare of the little one would be your foremost concern, not your pride."

That, Jacen would stubbornly deny, hit a little too close. On the other hand, he could see Jaina shifting so that she could fully support the weight of a sleeping Ben. Withholding a sigh, Jacen crouched and extended an arm to pull his cousin onto his back.

"…You said that one of those rooms wasn't occupied – are you sure that it's no trouble?" Jaina finally asked, saving Jacen the humiliation of acknowledging the offer. The woman relaxed from her stance almost immediately, as though her cold fury had kept her as hard as ice and the loss of even a little of it made her melt.

"I have no doubt we can all manage with the other three rooms – perchance a body or two will find space on the couch in the sitting room, if needs be. Oblige me to fetch my man – Gornash!" The woman barely turned, and at her side, there appeared a tower of a man, also in black and white, perfectly silent but intense. Maybe it was because he was easily two meters tall – and Jacen couldn't help but associate height like that with other acquaintances with such an intimidating build – or maybe it was the crooked scars under his eyes, but Jacen instinctively knew that he would be a fool to quarrel with this man, "Hasten to the suite and have everyone vacate the Nor-Eastern room. 'Twould never do if there was no room for our new members."

The man named Gornash bowed and wordlessly left, presumably on the errand his employer had set for him. Jacen was sure to keep an eye on him – if only because there was something inexplicably off about both the woman and her servant, but Jacen did know what an experienced combat veteran looked like when he saw one.

"...Well, in any case thank you. We'll be sure to pay you back for the room charge, at least." Jaina was rallying remarkably well, as well as keeping the dialogue flowing with the strange woman, whose reactions were at the very least curious.

"Nonsense – even accounting for the reluctance of the management, the room was already paid for. I simply find this a way of wrangling an even better value from the bargain." She fell silent as the manager returned with the copies of her keycards, taking them without even a word of thanks to the manager and striding away. As she passed, she promptly handed Jaina three, as though it had been a practiced maneuver, "Shall we proceed, or have you matters of greater import to attend to?"

Jaina snorted and gathered up all of their bags, as though the woman's way of attempting to help them save face had been a personal insult. With his arms full of Ben and lacking a key for himself, Jacen was left with the option to follow and keep his attention on the now apparently crazy lady whom had just let them into her room for no reason. Jacen didn't need, nor care to, look back to know that Threepio was at least tottering along after them this time – the strains of 'Wait for me!' were more than enough.

It wasn't until they'd crowded into the turbolift that the woman began her discussion in earnest.

"There – as far as one can come from overzealous ears with too little to keep them amused. Now, I realise the distasteful solution I provided, perchance to a problem of nought but my own creation, but the idea of leaving a band such as yourselves without a place to stay was unthinkable. I must apologise and repent of the grief I instiled just now – I meant no offence." Despite the lift being so crowded, the woman lifted one corner of her skirt enough to accentuate as she unmistakably bowed. Jacen avoided replying as he shifted Ben's sagging weight off of his back and onto his shoulders.

"It's okay – we were kind of stressed and not thinking too clearly." Jaina admitted, her cheeks and neck red from more than just the wine, "Really, thank you for offering this – we'll try not to be a bother to the other occupants."

The woman in black smiled, and it seemed true and genuine for the first time – or, perhaps, it just seemed visible and wholly more natural than Jacen would have guessed with the pretense she'd put up, earlier.

"One might as well say that they would do well to not be a bother to you – come, there's no need for such stiffness." The way she waved her hand, it looked less like a natural gesture and more like a motion that had been practiced, and meant to be indicative of a very specific, almost scientific, idea, "In that vein, wherein do you come to Ord Mantell and not already know your accommodations – I should think that, if you had such a mind to sleep in a station, you might have spared yourselves the time and trouble." The red flush across Jaina's cheeks crept higher, and possibly for a third reason, now.

"Yeah... This trip was sort of at the last minute – we just picked Ben up, caught a shuttle, and didn't have arrangements ready. Neither Jacen nor I've ever been to this festival, so we didn't know it'd be so packed – trust me, if we'd known it'd be THIS crowded, we'd've taken a proper ship and found a place to dock so we'd be able to sleep in our own quarters." Hearing his sister talk about taking proper ships made Jacen feel the tiniest pang of homesickness for his father's Falcon, and the cramped sleeping cots that had been more than spacious enough for him and Jaina when they'd been Ben's age, and half-broken down fresher that Chewbacca had only managed to repair the leaks in when...

"Oh..." The woman in black blinked at them, beadily, with a small crease between her brows, "...You have vessels of your own... and I suppose that must mean family and homes they are with?"

Now that was a strange question. Jacen supposed that his questioning look must have been identical to Jaina's.

"...Ye~ah..."

The woman's ghastly pale cheeks didn't really change, but she acted as though she meant to blush – and, from how wide her eyes went and how she held her hand against her mouth, it looked even stranger without at least a very red shade of pink to match.

"Oh... I ought to plead for your pardon... but the two of you traveling with both such small worldly possessions and a child such as this one... I presumed you were all of no name."

When this declaration was met with complete bewilderment from both Jacen and Jaina, Threepio – all too pleased to be relevant in the discussion – informed them that 'of no name' was a euphemism for 'orphaned'. This made Jacen snort – maybe it was with disgust, or maybe it was grimly amused – and shift again to keep Ben from completely sliding off his back. His little cousin twitched and shifted again, starting to drool on Jacen's shoulder.

"Orphans, huh? Yeah, right..." Jaina had one of those looks on her face, again – one that Jacen had only seen too much of at the end of the Yuzuhan Vong war, at all the memorials the Jedi had overseen, and all the families that had been grieving, and especially...

"...I had no ill intentions... Please, forgive me if what I said was too grave." The woman started – and started to lift a hand, as though to reach out for Jaina's shoulder – only to be cut off with Jaina's next, markedly sharp, words.

"It's nothing – our parents are just fine, and so are Ben's."

"Besides, we're both adults – even if something had happened to our parents, we could take care of ourselves." Jacen felt the need to add in – for Ben, he might understand the concern of a complete stranger, but himself and Jaina...

"Still..." The woman seemed to sink into the corner, as though being ushered into it by a threat of some kind, "...'Tis never an enviable fate – to have lost someone so precious."

Jacen ignored the pang he felt by focusing on Ben.

"He's getting too big to carry like this." He grumbled – what had happened, anyway, to the little toddler Jacen had last seen at the end of the war? When DID he get so big? Jaina sighed and let their bags drop.

"I'll take him – here." There was an unspoken 'I'm used to it, anyway' in her voice, which Jacen also found easier to ignore in favor of awkwardly transitioning the boy from his back to Jaina's – indeed, she took his weight without hunching or stumbling, like Jacen had. The only shift she made was to brace her feet and send the bags tumbling over – which was quickly remedied when Jacen stretched out into the Force and braced them. Even the woman – in a skirt that was far too ungainly to be kneeling in – bent and picked one up to hand to Jacen. Still not feeling very gracious, Jacen couldn't help but think that if she hadn't interfered, then the holochip wouldn't have slid out of one of the pockets in Ben's knapsack.

"...Hmm." And why the woman felt the need to examine it, Jacen also didn't understand, "Might I hazard a guess that the reason the young one is with you and not his own flesh and blood is because this young gentleman wanted some privacy from a little brother for his honeymoon?" She asked, an inviting, girlish smile spread across her face as she passed the holochip back to Jacen – rather with the attitude that she was sharing something that she felt belonged to her, as opposed to returning a possession to it's rightful owner. More than a little put off by this demeanor, Jacen grabbed the chip back and surveyed the projected holo of Ben's parents on their wedding day. It was enough to make him pause, given that he remembered the day well, himself, and hadn't realized that Ben was carrying this with him.

Jaina's response, though at first one of similar, nostalgic surprise, quickly turned amused.

"Sorry to tell you, but that picture's REALLY old – that's Ben's dad, not brother." And she let the woman draw all her own conclusions from there. If anything, her reaction was almost comical in how serious she turned.

"...Oh... His father..." She murmured, eyes going very wide and voice going very soft, "...They look so alike..."

Jaina cackled and loosened one of her hands from under Ben's knee to pat him on the shoulder.

"Don't let Ben hear you say that – Uncle Luke asked us to take him for this trip BECAUSE they'd been fighting so much, lately."

The strange woman made no reply, instead choosing to lead the party off the lift as it reached, presumably, the floor they'd been waiting for. In any case, the enormous man with the scars under his eyes was standing outside the lift doors, as though he'd been able to see them through the walls or some other sense had told him they would be arriving. The woman made a distracted motion with her hand and the servant – if that's all he really was, since Jacen was beginning to have doubts – bent to pick up the bags and proceeded with them as though it were an everyday occurrence.

The thought didn't occur to Jacen to question any further, but once the door to the suite was opened and he saw the two occupants of the sitting room couch, he suddenly felt a nasty suspicion. Apart from the fact that just this common area was ridiculously spacious – it would probably be possible to park a couple airspeeders between the floor-to-ceiling windows and the door, maybe even a full on one-man fighter – there was a bald, sagging lump of flesh that hardly looked like a person but probably was at least Humanoid slumping on the floor next to the couch. On the couch – or, more appropriately, half-on half-off the couch, with his shoulders and head resting at an awkward angle on the floor – was another Human, long-limbed and gangly, with a skin color far too dark to be even the worst of tans, and black hair that was knotted in long braids like ropes.

"Mister Tilus?" The woman nudged the lump with her fingertips, and Jacen managed not to jump when a face emerged from the mounds of black-clothed flesh, "He has fallen off, again – could you see to it that we have no injuries in the morning?"

Jacen wanted, at that moment, to ask if this strange woman – this strange, apparently very wealthy woman – had only taken pity on them, believing them to be orphans, because she'd done so before. He never did, instead opting to help nudge Ben awake enough that he'd get to bed on his own steam. The boy grumbled and whined and kept trying to lean back into either Jacen or Jaina's arms to settle back down, but eventually, Jaina did manage to coax him into enough of a coherent state for Ben to pick up his own bag and the wax flowers and totter into the only room with the open door. Jacen and Threepio followed closely, but Jaina remained behind.

"Sorry for not asking sooner – we never did have introductions, did we?" She extended a hand to the strange woman, an attitude as though she were more demanding a handshake than just passively expecting one.

Jacen lingered just a moment to watch. The woman blinked, her gray eyes impressively wide and almost perfectly round. She looked so much younger – more like a child than she'd been all evening, and from her natural features, that was something. After a moment, she timidly extended her own hand and grasped it. Later, Jaina would share with Jacen that her grip was strangely unyielding from hands that were so soft – and so cold, for that matter.

"You and your companion are called Jaina and Jacen, is that not so? From how loud your argument was, I would confess no surprise if all the hotel knew of it, by now." That and the small, overly familiar fond smile on the woman's face made Jaina snort, "I have been known as the Comte'de'Maria'Colegia, the Countess, Excellency... but I shall say the simplest form I have found simply to be the CMC." The woman curtsied so low that neither of them saw her face, nor exactly what expression she wore upon it.

~.~.~

Ben had apparently thought it important to put the flowers in a vase with water before passing out on top of the covers – the next morning, they would tease him for not realizing that fake flowers didn't need water. For now, Jaina tried to at least pry the boy's shoes off before either she or Jacen tried to find spots to sleep. It was also of no small hinderance that Ben had decided that he needed all two-square meters of the mattress to himself and had likewise sprawled out on it.

"The CMC, huh?" Jacen asked, nonchalantly pulling his own boots off and setting them down on the floor. Likely, he wasn't going to sleep on it.

"She sure is a strange one." Jaina agreed, finally pulling the fake stones off from around her neck and not caring where they landed when she tossed them onto the toilette stand. Admittedly, she thought, they'd met and known many more, much stranger persons in their years. Just dismissing her as strange wasn't quite a reasonable response, by comparison.

"Strange isn't quite the word I'd use." Jacen disagreed, pushing Ben to the side just enough that Jacen was able to settle in the center. Jaina took a seat on the other corner, watching her brother prop his head up on both of his linked hands.

"What would you say then?" Jacen's eyes slipped shut. Only then did Jaina realize the lines around them. When HAD her brother gotten so old?

"I don't dislike her..." He began slowly. Jaina snorted – she'd certainly been fooled.

"Yeah?"

"...I'm just not sure I LIKE her, just yet..."

~.~.~

In their own room, the CMC needed her valet to undo the laces of her bodice and gown. They'd lit none of the lights, nor said even a word, until it came time for the valet to undo his employer's shoes.

"Gornash." She whispered into the dark silence. The servant said, nothing, only needing to meet the CMC's gaze to know, "...That boy… he is..."

Gornash silently put his hands over his employer's shivering shoulders. Her hands reached up and clutched his jacket.

"Stay." Gornash made no reply, "Just for tonight. Stay."

There were no other words even needed.


	3. Chapter 2

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Because a lot of people are wondering who the Countess is- You'll find out her identity MUCH later... like around Chapter 50 or so...

However, I will say this- The Countess will tell tales of her past, or the past of the members of her household, and while she will omit details and not tell the whole truth, she WILL NOT LIE.

Chapter 2:

The final day's schedule for harvest seemed perfectly timed, as the clouds rolled over in a heavy, purple and reddish gray. The square was jammed with throngs of festivians and, from what Ben could see, the tools for execution were already in place- a giant press it seemed, and Ben had the distinct feeling that a juicing would be a more appropriate euphemism for the executions.

"Now that I see it, I can kind of understand why they call it a 'harvest'." Ben muttered and the Countess chuckled.

"How sincere an account- is that your only diagnosis?" She asked, lightly, as Ben turned. The Countess wasn't wearing heavy silks today, but rather a wraparound dress that was belted just at her ribcage and a shawl of black lace, which covered her arms like a pair of black bat wings.

"That, and I'm feeling a little queasy thinking about what's gonna happen..." He added. Jacen and Jaina were still frowning, significantly put out that he'd talked them into coming.

"If you feel ill at any time, you're more than welcome to leave or look away- I'd much prefer my guest's comfort to their company." The Countess informed him, with a small, sincere smile. Ben saw Jaina look over and give the Countess a curious glance.

"Yesterday, you were rambling on about all the flaws of execution, and the justice therewith, and now you're saying things like this... I don't know if we're in the presence of the same person as yesterday..." She muttered. The Countess's collected expression warped into a face that was smiling on one side and frowning on the other, with a line drawn right down the center of her face.

"Selle Jaina, anymore sarcasm and we'll be able to cut it with a knife." She said, not scolding, but still in a tone that let everyone know she disapproved. Jacen rolled his eyes and then muttered.

"In other words, if we can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all..." And in the silence, everyone could swear they heard Jacen whisper 'Funny how that applies to us and not you'.

After a moment of pause, the Countess turned to her steward- the same one as yesterday.

"Steward." She said, in a bit of a commanding tone, but not a sharp one.

"Milady?"

"Who are today's condemned?"

"Two of them- both accomplices in a murder in which a family was slaughtered and all their possessions stolen. One is scheduled for execution by pressing, the other by decapitation. One will be pardoned, however."

The Solo twins looked back over their shoulder at the steward, whose face was deadpanned as he spoke.

"How do you know that one will be pardoned?" Jacen asked, with a frown.

"That's not what matters, now." The Countess said, dismissively, "I do have a question to ask of all of you- when the two criminals are brought up, I would like you to tell me, knowing that only one will be reprieved, which one you think, in all probability, will be released, and which one you hope it will be."

Ben turned back a little, but then returned his attention to the square.

As though the executioners had known of their conversation, two men were brought up before the crowd, however, they varied in their appearances and behavior- one had the appearance of a hardened criminal, one who had accepted his fate, and was perhaps even looking forward to it, while reliving his crime with hideous joy over and over. The other was silent and hunched over, as though begging mercy from some deity, his face streaked with grime and tears.

The accusations were read and the sentences proclaimed. Ben was watching the two, with a frown on his face.

"They're both accomplices, right? Then why do they look so different?" He asked, and everyone could tell he wasn't talking about their physical appearances, as one of the men started crying again, finally starting to scream.

"But I didn't do anything- I'm begging you, please, let me live! Even if I'm kept in a cell for the rest of my life I don't care! Please believe me, I'm innocent!"

The man's voice was hoarse- it was as though he hadn't had water for years, even if he'd only been imprisoned for a number of days. His eyes were red and almost bulging from their sockets and his face was streaked, not just with tracks of saltwater, but lines that made him look like he'd aged thirty years in a moment.

The crowd began to throw things at him, in all shapes and sizing, ranging from empty cans of food, to knives, to insults and obscenities.

Ben felt his insides squirm. Then, the second man started to shout.

"Oh, that's how ya wanna be then, eh? All you holier than thou bastards can go ta HELL- YA HEAR ME! And guess what- I'll be shakin' yer hands when ya get there! Hah! HOW'DYA LIKE THAT! Come on, now live it up, all'ya bastards! Hah hah haah! C'mon! We're dyin' fer ya up here- I wanna see some happy faces! Go on! An' all'ya can kiss my ass, too!" He shouted, jeering and dancing in a profane manner.

There was a soft clapping noise as Ben turned to see the Countess clapping, slowly, as though applauding the performance.

"Well, they've made their confessions- which one do you suppose will have the reprieve?" The Countess asked, smiling. Jacen and Jaina shared a glance before returning the same answer.

"It probably will be the man who said he was innocent, and I hope that it is he." Jaina said, acting as spokesperson for the twins. Threepio put in his diagnosis similarly, even adding in that the odds of the man who had made a vulgar display receiving a pardon were eight-hundred twenty-nine thousand, three-hundred and seventy-four to one.

"Do you truly think that?" The Countess asked, though she sounded more like she was curious, or even hopeful, than challenging, and when Jaina nodded, firmly, she turned her attention to Ben, who was looking down at the railing of the terrace, tracing designs with the tip of his finger.

"Sieur Ben, what about you?"

"...I... well, I hope that the person who is relieved is the man who said he was innocent..." Ben started, stammering, not looking up, as though ashamed, "...But... something tells me that it's going to be the other man... I don't like thinking like that... but I've just got this feeling... maybe irony... maybe bitterness... but I think that it will be the guilty man who's freed." Jacen and Jaina stared at him in shock, the Countess with curiosity.

"What incites this?"

"Just a feeling... a bad feeling... but a feeling, none-the-less..." Ben replied, then returned the question, "What about you, Countess? Who do you expect and hope for?"

"Me? I think the pardon will fall to the man who has boasted of his guilt. Which is all just as well, as he is the one I hope receives it." The Countess replied, indifferently, not even twitching as everyone reacting quite violently.

"How can you say that? You wish for a criminal to go free while an innocent man dies?"

"How do we know that the other man truly is innocent as he says he is? He's only pleading, saying that he's innocent so his life will be spared. The court of law, however, has already decreed him guilty, so the fact that he is saying he's committed no crime is a lie. Imagine- if such a liar, such a horrid criminal were to be set loose back on the streets, he could be hiding anywhere and you wouldn't know until he jumped out at you with a blaster. The man whom is boasting of his crime, however, is loud, obvious, and honest. He would be easy to spot, and thus, easy to avoid. And, as far as criminals go, I would rather have one closer to honesty go free." The Countess explained, with a kind of air as though this is supposed to be obvious.

Jacen and Jaina flinched while Threepio started to fuss.

"I must insist- this isn't something Master Ben should be watching." He said, sounding rather upset at the display. The Countess waved it away.

"Nonsense! There are mothers in that crowd who have brought their babes of barely a few months along to this viewing. Why impose the discrimination of age on Sieur Ben alone?" She asked, making the older three more than a little uncomfortable. The criminals' shouts were becoming louder and much more colorful.

"However... as the display is becoming a little vulgar... if you would care to have some other option, we could do with a round of sabacc until the antics die down." The lady finally amended, bringing out a deck and handing it to Threepio to cut, shuffle, and deal. The protocol protested, citing that it was against his programming to do so.

"I appreciate that, but you are the most impartial here- I'd hate for the odds to be stacked in anyone's favor. And, if you wouldn't mind, we shall be playing the three-card draw version, as opposed to four." The Countess insisted, and, in the end, Threepio randomized the cards and dealt three to each of the humans, refusing to take part in the game.

Ben glared at his cards, attempting to banish the noise from below and block the memory of the condemned men's speeches.

He'd been dealt The Idiot, The Crumbled Foundation, and The Six Flasks. He knew very little about sabacc, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he'd just been dealt a crappy hand.

"Would it interest anyone to know that sabacc is unusual in the fact that it uses fortune cards instead of playing cards?" The Countess asked, rearranging her cards, and, for once, Jacen smirked.

"Everyone knows that- no, it doesn't surprise us." He replied, and the Countess shrugged.

"I was just wondering..." She replied, "And, in any case, I call." As the Countess laid her hand down, all could see that she held The Three Sabres, The Seven Sabres, and Demise. All were negative. Without even seeing what the others had, all three voiced loud protestations of disappointment, even as they set down their own hands.

Jaina had been dealt negative cards too: Endurance, The Eleven Staves, and Sun. Jacen's hand had held The Pod, a negative The Nine Staves, and The Ruler.

"You know, if Threepio hadn't dealt them, I would almost swear you rigged the game." Jaina mumbled, looking distastefully at her hand, well over twenty-three.

"Selle Jaina, surely you jest. But if it's any consolation, this is meant to be sport, not gambling." The Countess noted, with a shrug. Everyone put their cards back, took a brief glance towards the execution below, noting that it hadn't yet started, and opted for another round. This time, Ben found himself with The Evil One, The Teacher, and The Mistress of Sabres. He quickly called and this time saw Jacen with The Crumbling Foundation, The Satellite, and The Master of Sabres; the Countess with Balance, Judgement, and The Queen of Air and Darkness; Jaina with The Two Sabres, The Seven Staves, and The Commander of Cups.

"It would seem that Sieur Ben has very well won this round..." The Countess mused, and while she did not sound displeased or upset, at the same time, her statement didn't sound like praise, "And just on time, too- the execution seems to be beginning..."

Ben looked back out to the square, frowning slightly, as the man who was still sneering at the angered crowd was locked into a decapitation pillory and the other was dragged towards the presser.

"It looks like they're both about to be executed."

"Except that only one of them truly shall be- one still has his life before him, whether it be behind the walls of a cell, on the streets, or otherwise."

"That pardon would have to come now, if never."

Indeed, as soon as the words had passed his lips, a person in the same dress as the executioners came bustling through the crowd, breaking the ranks of the soldiers on guard, who let him pass, and coming to a halt before the other executioners, holding a red disc. The prosecutors read what was on it in a conference, before a bell was rung.

"A pardon has been issued by the Grand Inquisitor! The man to be pardoned shall be Briar Spina!"

Cheers rose from the crowd as, much to the shock of Ben and his cousins, the man who had jeered and boasted at the crowd was released from his binders and the decapitation pillory.

"YEAH!" He could be heard, shouting and dancing with manic glee, waving to the crowd as though accepting an honor, "Thank you, thank you! May his Excellency, the Grand Inquisitor, have a long, prosperous life! HA HA HA!"

Jaina sank back into her chair, strength sapped from her legs, and Jacen's mouth was gaping wide open. Ben was hanging his head in resolute 'I knew it' despair, and the Countess had a look of triumphant fire, as though the very flame of justice was burning in the pit of her heart. Jaina slowly turned to glance at the Countess's face, and caught a glimpse of her gray eyes flashing, as though they were liquid pools of molten silver.

"WHAT? HOW?! WHY? WHY DOES HE GO FREE, WHILE I'M LEFT HERE TO DIE? A CRIMINAL ESCAPES AND AN INNOCENT MAN IS TO BE SQUEEZED LIKE FRUIT?! WHAT JUSTICE IS THIS?!" The other man was shrieking, a shrill noise which pierced the air.

The crowd started boo-ing again, and the other man finally went into hysterics.

"DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU, YOU BASTARD! YOU SAID WE WOULD DIE TOGETHER! THIS ISN'T RIGHT! THIS ISN'T FAIR! GET BACK UP HERE! BASTARD! BASTARD! SON OF A BITCH!" And, almost in an instant, the man who had been crying and begging for mercy, professing his innocence, had transformed into a wild, rabid creature. His eyes were no longer bulging with tears, but with boiling rage, his face red and lined with creases like the stretched gaunt of a corpse, saliva spraying from his mouth like foam, "GET BACK HERE! YOU SAID WE WOULD DIE TOGETHER IF WE WERE CAUGHT, DAMN YOU! BASTARD! TRAITOR! LIAR!"

The man was restrained and yanked back to the presser, his arms and legs quickly strapped against the back and a large bowl being placed beneath his feet. The jeering from the crowd was quickly turning into a loud chant calling for his death.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

Ben felt his mouth hanging open, a numbness spreading on his skin. Morbid fascination rooted his feet where they were and horror paralyzed his throat in an unspoken scream, as executioners drilled tubes into the man's body at major artery points, tilted down so that not a drop of blood wouldn't be caught.

"KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!"

The presser fell.

* * *

Ben came back to his senses with someone gently shaking him and his name being called. Blinking a few times, he realized that he was still on his feet, face firmly pressed against something black and lacy, that smelled of a citrus fruit, but some sickly sweet scent at the same time. A hand was rubbing his back and he suddenly realized he was caught in a ring of the Countess's arms and that she was rocking him, like a mother with her child. Ben blinked his eyes a few times as the sharp scent of her perfume stung his eyes and after a moment, he shook himself free.

Someone- Ben suspected the Countess herself- had turned him around so that he was no longer facing out onto the square. As he looked back over his shoulder, the only thing that lay testament to the scene that had happened however long ago was a circle of blood, as though the bowl had leaked, on the ground. Ben felt his hands clench, fingernails digging into his palms, before a voice roused him.

"This was his choice." Ben turned back to see that his cousins and Threepio had gone back inside and he was alone with the Countess, whom was offering him his jacket, "The end you saw here today was the fate for all who lead the life of crime such as they did. It can only come of a person's own choice- every different person has the power to chose and control their future, and a dire end such as this is only just for those who chose poorly, or let good opportunities go to waste."

The Countess had a very serious look on her face, and Ben had the impression that she was saying this, partly to console him, but also because she truly believed it, and he felt more reassured than he would have if she'd only been paying lip service or simply saying hollow words that weren't true.

Even as his hands still shook, the Countess withdrew from the folds in her dress a small black box- one that looked as though it had been carved out of black ivory- and produced a single pill of crimson red, so similar to the color of blood in it's slight sheen of gold in the setting sunlight that Ben was almost ill, but she handed it to him and bade him to swallow. In doing so, all the trembling in his nerves was calmed and Ben felt his racing heart return to a normal, steady beat. Ben blinked in surprise, but then gave the Countess a wonder struck glance, which she didn't respond to.

"Go. Your cousins are waiting for you." She said, softly, and Ben did as he was told, and he and the twins carefully went back down to the street level.

"Jacen... Jaina... I'm gonna take a walk." Ben finally said, stopping in his tracks, causing the older two to look back at him, and Threepio to begin to fuss, "Threepio, you can come with me, if you want... but I just don't want to go back to the hotel, just yet..." Ben's words came out as more of a request as he stared, despondently, at his feet.

"Ben... I..." Jacen began, but was cut off, both by the look on his cousin-brother's face and by a jab in the ribs from his sister.

"As long as Threepio's with him, I think Ben will be fine. Take as long as you need." Jaina said, smiling fondly at the young one, who turned to leave, smiling gratefully.

* * *

"Master Ben, I can understand how upset you must be- after all, seeing someone killed in such a cruel and unusual way, especially after you've been told that killing isn't the way to solve things or that that manner of punishment is acceptable..." Threepio continued to fuss over his master's son as he followed Ben through the streets, which were still lit as bright as day.

"Threepio, please shut up." Ben snapped, coming to a halt, and immediately feeling guilty at how punctually Threepio had obeyed him.

Something which he wasn't telling anybody was exactly why he was so disturbed by the experience, and it wasn't the blood and gore or even the disturbing way that the unnamed criminal had reverted from pretending to be innocent to the monster that had emerged with the pardon. What nobody knew was that Ben hadn't watched the actual execution, but rather, the rest of the crowd. As the other man had been pressed so his blood squirted out, the crowd had been chanting, over and over, that horrible mantra of blood lust. And then, as their demand had been met, the jeering turned into cheering, all the people in the crowd laughing and celebrating as the man had been crushed to a painful and sickening death.

And, while Ben would admit, if the accused man had been a truly horrible criminal as said, he probably deserved that painful death... but... did that justify the crowd's reaction to it? To cheer and applaude as a man died in a nasty way such as that... wasn't that more of a desire just to see someone else in pain? How could any person behave in such a way when there was blood being shed- when the person who was being wrung for blood like a fruit for it's nectar was shrieking, suffering, and dying? The arguments of the Countess came back, and he responded, yes, suffering like that might be acceptable to punish the guilty of such hideous crimes, but... couldn't the crowd show a little courtesy? Remain at least a little restrained as the execution was carried out? At least wait until the execution was finished to applaude and celebrate?

A projectile from above landed on Ben's head, then into his hands as he passed underneath a pedestrian bridge that went over the street. It was a pair of organic white flowerettes, which drew Ben's gaze upward, searching for whom had thrown them, to see the same white-haired girl that had thrown him the flower-shaped candles a few days ago in the parade. She was resting her arms on the railing of the bridge, and her head likewise on her hands, before, as Ben waved to her, she waved back and came down the ramp to meet him.

Up close, she only appeared to be barely even a year older than himself. Her pale cheeks were round, but full, and came to a narrow point of a fair chin. The hair on her head was pure white, as well, with little strands from her bangs that curled slightly around the edges of her cheeks, while the rest of it hung down in the back, held together by a scarf that covered all of her scalp and tied underneath her hair. Her skin was so pale that Ben could practically see the blue of her veins tinging it. Her eyes shone as green as the leaves on the flowers she'd thrown, and they glittered and danced in the light of the lamps, and she was only just the slightest bit taller.

After a moment of silence, the girl lifted her hands and began to make motions with them, almost like fidgeting, except Ben knew that it wasn't... something inside him told him that she was trying to communicate.

"Master Ben, it appears she's mute..." Threepio chimed in, "And she remembers you from the parade and wishes to know what your name is."

Ben would have rolled his eyes, except he'd been having difficulty understanding what the girl had been attempting to get across, only being able to pick out a few letters like 'y', 'c' and 'i'.

"Ben. My name is Ben Skywalker." He replied, bowing his head a little. The girl frowned a little, but then shrugged her shoulders and began to spell again. This time, Ben recognized the letters perfectly.

J... A... C... C... I...

"Jacci... Is that your name?" Ben asked. Jacci paused, blinked in surprise, confusion, then excitement, as she nodded, frantically, then held out her hand.

"You want me to accompany you for the rest of carnival?" Ben asked, clarifying, and Jacci's eyes lit up again as she nodded, as though delighted that he could understand her. With a smile, Ben took her hand, and gave it a small squeeze, letting her draw him through the crowds.

There wasn't anything particular about her- sure, her coloration was eccentric, and her silence, unique, but really, Ben might have lost her in the crowd if he were depending on sight alone. Her dress was black, with a pattern of violet-gray roses, lace going around the bottom hem, the sleeveless edges, and collar, while her scarf, leggings, and handless gloves matched the pattern and design. But something about her presence was something that Ben had never conceived of before- it was the kind of guidance that an older sister would give, with the empathy of a sibling who was older, but not TOO much older, the way Jacen and Jaina were, but she also held him by her side, as though she was really a peer of his own age, rather than a significant year older, and her hand was warm like that of... maybe a girlfriend? Not exactly a motherly kind of warmth- it was an intimate kind of heat, her palm pressed against his.

Ben continued to steal glances at her, mostly ignoring Threepio babbling in the background about going off with strangers- Threepio was still with him, so he hadn't gone off with a stranger, had he?- before he chose to look at the precise same moment that she apparently did. Jacci smiled, but blushed, before bringing up the hand of Ben's that she held and beginning something truly odd with her fingers- as though she were trying to massage Ben's hand, pressing two fingers into the center of his palm, rubbing along the flesh of his inner knuckles, before she pressed her thumb against the underside of Ben's smallest finger, running her index over the back so Ben's finger bent without pain, before she pinched the topmost knuckle on his middle finger between her thumb and three center fingers, then ran her thumb along the heel of his palm, continuing with a series of other, non-rhythmic kneading and massaging motions.

Something was nagging at Ben, something he couldn't quite place, that Jacci wasn't simply trying to massage his hand to work out aches in the joints. He frowned, thought for a moment, and then felt a small twinge of understanding... before asking her to repeat. Her eyes glowed for a moment, before she repeated what she'd done, and suddenly Ben heard words form in his head for every move of her fingers against his skin- the two fingers in his palm indicated a question, and as she used her thumb and center fingers on his middle finger, he could tell she was asking something about himself...

' ' Can you understand me ? ' ' She was asking. Ben paused for a moment, then, after hesitating and thinking on how to possibly answer, he responded, pressing his palm flat against her hand.

' ' Yes ' '

Jacci's face lit up, and not with mere joy, but ecstasy, like a child who had lost their pet baby animal or thought their favorite toy that had been a precious gift from someone most beloved had been stolen, and was just now finding it again, or a small child that had been separated from her sibling and was finding him after a long, painful search. Her arms went around Ben's shoulders, and, by default, his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace, pressing kisses all over his forehead, eyelids, hair, nose, and cheeks with some kind of exuberant relief. If Ben hadn't had this uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, he would have pushed her away and politely said that she was mistaking him for someone else.

...But something told him that she wasn't... that he was, actually, the very person she had been looking for, whoever that was... Was that, perhaps, the Force? Ben shuddered to think so- he sincerely doubted it, as it was more of an inner sense, than the feeling of someone whispering in his ear the way the Force tended to feel like...

Jacci's hand gripped tightly around his, and she pulled him out of the crowd into an unlit end of the street, her fingers telling his hand that she wanted to talk without being interrupted.

' ' Fat chance , with Threepio here ' ' Ben told her, and her nails drummed on his palm, as though she were laughing. Out of the eyes of other people, they sat and started to talk, in this new language which didn't need any words.

They discussed their interests, their family, their friends, their education. Jacci told about how her parents had died before she'd even been born, and how her 'Neh-Ni-Kaa' had been the person to actually give birth and raise her, about how she was in training to be a soldier in the army on her planet, her friends from school who she would go to have noodles with after classes and training ended, virtually everything that she could tell him, because a lot of information about the planet she came from was ' ' Confidential and Neh-Ni-Kaa will get in trouble if I tell anyone ' '

Ben had listened, then told her about his parents, his place- or lack thereof- in the Jedi Order, how he and his cousins were here on a trip, how he had been conscious at an early age ' ' At least according to my mom and dad , but I think they're just trying to make me seem like a genius , that how parents kind of are on my home world ' ' of what was coming in the future, and most of what he did in his spare time.

It was odd, but he seemed to have a closer resemblance to her than he'd thought at first- their interest in mechanics, the foods which they liked were similar, they'd both had nearly identical periods in their lifetimes of being aware of the things around them, in both space and time... If Ben hadn't known any better, he could have sworn she was related to him.

After their hands finished talking, Jacci's smile seemed to have spread across her whole face, top to bottom, before she leaned forward and shyly kissed him the way he'd seen his father kiss his mother. For a moment, Ben froze, but, slowly, it changed. This was just a simple greeting, and, for some reason, he suddenly could hear a voice- one that sounded very much like his own, but as though he'd been born... a girl...

:: Jacci::

:: Yes::

:: So... this is you::

:: Yep::

"Master Ben, I DO protest- behavior like this is extremely inappropriate, and at your age, too! Why, you don't even know this girl- she could be and accomplice for a bandit gang leading you into a trap! Furthermore..." Threepio interrupted the moment, causing Jacci to pull back, giving Threepio a 'Do you mind' kind of glare. The voice disappeared and Ben couldn't help but feel disappointed, before he heard the click of a blaster against his ear.

"Shaddup." There was a pause and Ben looked over his shoulder, then over Jacci's to see they were effectively surrounded by a number men, armed and mostly shrouded in the shadows. Threepio was in the captivity of another man, whose hand was over his mouthpiece. Two others with even bigger blasters stood on either side, pressing in so Ben and Jacci were forced to move with them.

* * *

Jacen and Jaina weren't particularly surprised that, when Threepio returned, he was erratically frantic. Instead, the twin's attention was drawn by the lack of their cousin with the droid. With this in mind, the two confronted the poor protocol, whom was already upset enough that he couldn't properly defend himself against the abuse.

"Threepio, where's Ben?" The sister demanded, as the droid's arms flailed.

"He was with you when he went for a walk a few hours ago- what did you do with him?" Jacen continued in an accusing tone.

"It's not my fault- please, you must believe me! Master Ben wandered off with a strange girl and the two of them were kidnapped! I WARNED him something like this would happen; why does nobody ever listen to me about these things?" Threepio lamented, only to be ignored as the siblings exchanged a look.

"If you saw this, why'd they let you go?" Jacen demanded, grabbing Threepio by the neck joint, even as Jaina opened her mouth to protest.

"They sent me back with demands- they want twenty-five thousand dulcars before sunrise or Master Ben's life will..."

"Don't say it!" Jaina shouted, putting her hands over her ears and feeling clearly upset, "Alright... okay... calming down, this is simple to deal with- we just need to track them, find Ben, kill the bandits and..." Before Threepio interrupted again.

"Unfortunately, when they took the two captive, I couldn't help but notice they had some strange kind of lizards strapped to their belts. As far as I could see in my memory banks, I only have one record of such strange reptilians..."

Jacen's face warped, with a kind of disgusted recognition.

"Don't tell me..." He growled, before Jaina brutally brought her brother back to his senses.

"Then we need to contact Mom and Dad, tell them An-" She stopped at the deadly glare that her brother was sending to her, "I mean Ben was kidnapped, explain the ysalamiri, say we need to borrow money, and pay them back when we get back home." Jaina said, in a reasonably calm voice, given the situation.

"A-actually..." Threepio stammered, as though fearing for his life- reasonable, considering that Jacen was giving him a look that said he would draw his lightsaber and cleave the droid in half if he gave them anymore bad news- "One of the demands was that no authority figures of any kind were to be contacted- they'll void all terms and deadlines if this demand isn't met..."

"And they planted a device on you somewhere where we can't get to it without damaging your circuits to monitor and make sure we follow the demands, didn't they?" Jaina asked, as though knowing the answer, and sure enough, Threepio nodded.

After a long moment, Jaina finally dug into her credit pouch, finding her disc of credit and surveying.

"Then, we'll go to the casino, use what's left on our credit chips to get the twenty-five thousand dulcars, and when we get Ben back, THEN we'll contact Mom and Dad and tell them we need to borrow money to get back home." She finally said. Jacen looked at her, disgustedly.

"The hell if I'm telling Mom and Dad that we screwed up THIS badly." He spat.

"Fine- I'LL tell them, but either way, let's get going." Jaina snapped, firmly. Jacen glared at her.

"You're just going to gamble for Ben's LIFE? What if you LOSE, Jaina?" He demanded, as his sister headed for the door. Jaina glared over her shoulder.

"We're Solos- the luck runs in the family. And besides, if things go bad, a LITTLE cheating is acceptable in emergencies like this." She returned. Jacen stared for a moment, then grabbed his disc of credit, and followed her with Threepio on their heels.

With these expectations, Jacen let out a string of invectives that Jaina had never even known existed before when they reached the casino to find the doors locked.

The two went back up to their room, exhausted from running through the streets and, in Jacen's case, shouting and cursing so much, to try and think of a new plan of action.

"I don't suppose they'll let Ben live if we send you out of the room while we make a plan to rescue him, huh?" Jacen finally asked Threepio, after a glass of water. Threepio hung his head, and that was answer enough. Jaina paced the floor, and thus, couldn't jump at the knock on the door.

"It's unlocked." She said, tiredly. The door slid open and nobody could be too surprised to see the Countess standing outside, bowing as she entered, and looking at everyone with raised eyebrows.

"My, such long faces..." She said, disappointedly, "I was going to extend my apologies for the unpleastantry my invite to the executions seemed to have caused, but if I've come by at an unappealing time, I suppose I should take my leave..."

She turned to leave, almost as soon as she had arrived, except Jaina, awakened from her stupor and not entirely sure on her feet at the moment, rushed towards the door, tripped over the foot of her bed, and grabbed the Countess's ankle to draw her attention.

"Wait... Countess, we need a favor..." She managed, voice muffled as she tried to regain her bearings.

The Countess's expression melted into one of wickedly delight and self-satisfied amusement, before her smile turned kindly, yet serious, offering a hand-up to Jaina.

"Selle Jaina, surely no favor is so impressive that you need wound your pride in such a way..." She insisted as Jaina stood, "Now... would it have to do with the fact that Sieur Ben has been kidnapped and is being held for ransom?" She asked. Jacen and Jaina's jaws dropped, possibly more at her calm demeanor more than her words, but Threepio answered.

"As a matter of fact, yes- and we need to ask you if we might be able to borrow the sum for which the ransom is demanded." He replied, remaining sound enough to speak. The Countess didn't seem surprised.

"Fifty-thousand?" She asked, and the twins jumped, before shaking their heads.

"N-no... only half that..." The Countess, however, waved her hand.

"It is of no matter- for a sum twice that of what they demanded, we will be allowed a little more leg room in the bargain. The three of you go to find the exchange point- leave the financing in my hands." The Countess replied, leaving the room with a sweep of her arm.

* * *

"This is the spot." Threepio finally said as they arrived in the square where the executions had taken place. It was still empty, aside from the mess and disarray the crowd had left, excepting one man on the other side of the square, who walked over towards them, cautiously.

"Would you be the benefactors?" Asked a voice which sounded vaguely familiar. As the man's face came into a more recognizable light, Jacen almost screamed with fury, as they recognized the man Briar Spina, whom had been pardoned just barely twelve hours ago at his own execution. Threepio made a sputtering, unintelligible noise, before confirming that he was the man who they were supposed to meet for the exchange.

"You don't look like you have the money- where is it?" Spina demanded, looking at them with distaste, before a sack hit his head and the twins saw golden dulcars scatter from the slight opening.

"I do hate to spoil the first impression, but these poor, young souls are mere victims- I am your benefactor." The Countess had arrived, stepping down from the roofed hover carriage she had been in. It seemed she had thrown the sack with some deliberance, "Forgive the rude intrusion- I've tripled your price to seventy-five thousand. Now, if you would be so gracious as to lead us to those we wish to be returned..." The Countess's otherwise polite demeanor was edged to the point that it was less a request and more a demand.

"S-Se-Seventy-five...?" Spina weighed the bag in his hands, stammering, before the Countess slithered down next to him, trapping his chin with the tips of her three main fingers and peering into his eyes, her own gleaming as though her silvery irises were on fire, and her smooth face animated with predatory ferocity.

"Saa..." She whispered, an animalistic growl breaching her otherwise fair tuned voice. Nobody quite understood what the syllable meant, but it's effect was precisely on the mark- Spina turned very pale, and didn't resist as she ordered him to his feet. Two more people stepped out of the Countess's carriage- one being her ever-present steward, and the other being a young child, probably a girl, given she was wearing a black and white striped dress, with a scarf around her shoulders and covering her head and the lower half of her face- in fact, the only part of her face visible was her right eye, as the left half of her face was covered by her black bangs. She was not, however, by any means, weak. On the contrary, as she seized the arm of Spina which the steward was not already holding and helped drag him into the carriage, after the Countess and her guests made themselves comfortable.

The rocky road towards the given address was uncomfortably silent, apart from the nervous noise that Spina made, consisting of a single 'Hah' as the two guarding him held a pair of menacing blades to his throat. After a moment or two, however, the Countess began to speak.

"I must confess a curiosity to the bond between yourselves and the Sieur Ben Skywalker. Your attachment seems to permeate the connection of normal cousins." The Countess politely asked as the two stared glumly out the window.

"Mmm..." Jacen offered, quietly, before Jaina spoke.

"We used to have a brother, before the Yuuzuhan Vong came." She explained, "His name was Anakin."

The Countess nodded, with keen interest.

"Anakin was... I don't know how to put it... maturely innocent... he could trust others and always saw the good in the world... without letting his guard down. I guess, if I had to pick out of the three of us who deserved to live the most... who was best as a person, and as a Jedi... it would have been Anakin." Jaina paused to clear her throat and take a breath, "But then..."

"...Then, some misfortune befell the three of you." The Countess surmised. Jaina nodded, and Jacen continued.

"Anakin was sent out to lead a strike on the Vong when they invaded... he died in combat... To save our sorry hides." Jacen didn't make eye contact with the Countess, whose expression was unreadable.

"Then... Ben was born... and he's so much like Anakin- his personality and behavior... even though he's only eight years old... I don't know... I guess we kind of took it like... some kind of sign..." Jaina continued, "We just... sort of adopted him as our brother, instead of treating him like a cousin."

The Countess seemed to contemplate this for a moment, before she smiled.

"What kind people you two are..." She finally said, "I don't think anyone in the galaxy could be luckier than Ben to have you two watching over him as brother and sister would."

Jaina frowned at her before looking out the window with a grimace, as though there was something she wasn't saying that was causing her great pain. Jacen also frowned and looked away. The journey ended with an abrupt halt, and Spina chuckled nervously as he spoke.

"This is the spot..." The hostage kidnapper stammered, as the Countess sneered, politely, at him.

"Well, then, please escort us in." She said, opening the door of the carriage and tossing him out by the back of his collar, before stepping down, followed by the twins and then the two who had been acting as guards.

"Steward, Suna." The Countess said to her two servants, in that same commanding, but not sharp tone.

"Milady?"

"Sensei?"

"Go with the Selle and Sieur Solo and if any of the guards around the captives give you any trouble, deal with them however you please. I will escort Sieur Spina here to the conductor of this organization." The Countess said, taking Spina sharply by the arm and leading him into the entrance of, what appeared to be, a cavern, as they found themselves on the outskirts of the city, almost in the wilderness region.

Jacen and Jaina went down one end of the tunnel, with the two servants, and they could smell the odor of the ysalamiri and almost felt the Force going lax in their muscles. The walls were dark and without the Force to help them see, the darkness seemed impenetrable, almost like a thick, heavy blanket of smog. They could hear noises down the tunnel, like a pack of animals scrabbling over meat, though, as the sounds became more distinct with less echoing off the walls, it turned out to be a group of men quarreling over who would get the most out of their reward, before one, apparently gifted with night vision, spotted their company and started squalling in Huttese.

Without a word, the steward pulled a small blaster and quickly disposed of the men, fetching one of their lamps and turning it on to reveal a small cage with two people inside it- Ben and a strange girl with white hair- both sound asleep on each other's shoulders.

"Well, how d'ya like THAT?" Jacen mused in wonder.

"Indeed." Agreed the Countess, who appeared right behind them, "Sieur Ben must either have a stomach of steel or the most extreme confidence in you, to be sleeping as a man who could be executed at dawn."

"Well... he IS only eight years old..." Jaina amended, snapping on her lightsaber and cutting a whole in the cage sizable enough for her to reach in and pick up her sleeping cousin. She was hindered, however, when she suddenly found herself dragging the additional weight of the girl, whose hand Ben was holding onto with an impossible grip. The movement made the both of them stir enough to awaken and climb out.

"G'mornin'... issit?" Ben mumbled, while the girl rubbed her eyes. Jaina clocked him upside the head with aggravation as the Countess's servants left to return to the carriage.

"You two were sleeping while we were busting our asses trying to save you?" She demanded, incredulously. Ben, still sleepy and the mild concussion his cousin had just given him not helping matters, simply nodded. Jaina made a noise in the back of her throat to voice her disgust.

The girl had awakened enough by this point that, as soon as she noticed the Countess, she ran over and gave her a hug around the waist, inciting confusion and puzzlement for the others.

"...Countess... you know Jacci?" Ben asked, regaining his bearings. Jacen and Jaina gave him strange looks, surprised that he knew the girl's name, and the Countess frowned.

"You mean to say that she hasn't told you who 'Neh-Ni-Kaa' is?" The Countess asked. Ben blinked, then shook his head.

"She told me that her parents died before she was born, so 'Neh-Ni-Kaa' had their mother's womb transplanted into her own body and thus gave birth and raised her... but she didn't say who that person was..." Ben said, nervously. The Countess blinked, then smiled, softly.

"In that case, I suppose I should introduce you properly: Meet Jacci- my little sister."

If Jacen and Jaina were surprised, they were nowhere near as shocked as Ben was.

"WHAAAAAAT?"

* * *

The party was steered outside, their shock wearing off as they came upon the Countess's steward with white hair bent over double, curled into a ball, sobbing into his hands, the little girl trying to console him, on the ground outside the hover carriage.

"Suna, what happened?" The Countess asked as her guests and sister climbed in, cautiously looking over at the steward with a mixture of sympathy and worry.

"He tried to balance the budget." The little girl responded, handing the Countess an accounting pad, with her steward's scribbled attempts to properly deduct the huge sum that she'd just spent on the rescue mission. Seeing the bottom line, the Countess smiled a little, knowing fully well how a number like that would, indeed, send any accounting man into tears.

With a motherly gesture, she patted her servant on the shoulder.

"There, there- if it makes you feel any better, the more difficult a task I ask you to complete, the larger a bonus you get in your paycheck, that month." Mentioning paychecks only seemed to upset him further.

"Somehow..." Jacen muttered, watching the display through the windows, "I get the feeling that Tenel Ka would get along with her really well..."

* * *

"I can't believe I kissed the Countess's SISTER!" Ben said, numbly, sitting down from packing his bag. His cousins had decided that an immediate departure would be advisable given the fiasco that had occurred. It was with humor that Jacen flopped down next to his cousin.

"What, kissing is ALL you did?" He asked, sarcastically. A projectile sailed over the boards and hit Jacen in the head. Upon inspection, it turned out to be his sister's pillow.

"Speaking of the Countess, she invited us to have lunch with her today in the same room as dinner- she said she wanted to apologize for how the invitation for the executions offended us and she promised to behave this time, whatever that means. She also offered to transport us to the transport bay for our flight." Jaina called after her pillow, at which Ben promptly threw his back open again to look for something nice to wear.

Something that his cousins made sure to take full advantage of, and for that precise reason, Ben led the way to lunch in a carnival costume, essentially dressed like a pirate.

"It's very refreshing to see some flamboyance in you tonight, Sieur Ben- the last few nights, it's been so dreary." The Countess said, with a smile. Ben's neck sank into his shirt collar, while his face flushed.

"...They just gave me suggestions what to wear..." Ben replied, Jacen and Jaina smirking with amusement at how literally Ben had taken their suggestions.

"Ah, how impressionable is youth..." The Countess said, with reflection, before turning and inviting them into the room. Unlike before, Jacci was also at the table, along with a boy of about twelve with pale eyes and fluffy reddish-brown hair, and the little girl with a scarf around her head.

"...You made it sound as though we were the only ones invited..." Threepio noted, Ben took a seat across from Jacci, who was waving at him, shyly. Jacen and Jaina also sat, giving the other three across the table a curious look.

"You were- Jacci just wanted to see Sieur Ben again, I gave my steward the day off because of the fuss last night, so Suna is my bodyguard on duty, and Hiken had a nightmare last night and has gotten it into his head that I'll disappear if he lets me out of his sight for more than a second." The Countess explained.

"Oh, so it's a FAMILY meal, then?" Jaina noted, ironically. The Countess tilted her head, put a hand to her chin, considered the matter, and finally agreed, that the description was very fitting.

"Jacci seems to have taken to you..." The Countess muttered, as her sister's face went red. Ben's cheeks also colored, and he looked down towards his shoes. It was thus that he didn't see the Countess place something on the table, until Jacen nudged him to look up. On the corner of the table, was a small box of dark wood, silver clasps, and embellishing decorating the elegant carvings on it. Ben frowned, but took it and opened the box, to see, on the inside, was a small crystal on the floor- silvery with two lines of blue dividing the circlet into thirds. From the box came a soft, sweet melody, one which went up and down in slopes of plucked metal chords.

"It's a music box..." He said, temporarily dumbstruck.

"It's Jacci's music box- she wants you to have it." The Countess replied. Jacen and Jaina stared, blankly, as Jacci shot them glares which Ben didn't see.

"Haven't you done enough- you've been inviting us to meals and entertainment all week, willingly paid three times the ransom asked from a group of bandits for a person you hardly know, and now this?" Jaina asked, with a hint of suspicion. The Countess shrugged.

"Jacci is the one who wants Ben to have the music box." She said, before smiling, "I will admit, however, that I did have an ulterior motive, one which I need to discuss with you, here..." Jacen paused from his hearty appetite, listening in.

"Whatever it is, I owe you a great deal after last night- aside from breaking the law, I'd gladly do any favor you need to ask of me." Ben replied, eyes lit up with excitement. Jacen cast Ben a glance, wary of him being TOO excited at whatever the Countess might ask.

"How fortunate, then- neither of the two things I have to ask involve breaking the law." The Countess said, before continuing, "My first request is that you, Sieur Ben, and your cousins, Selle Jaina and Sieur Jacen, act as my mediators in the near future."

"Mediators? Are you anticipating some sort of trouble?" Jaina asked. The Countess laughed, lightly.

"No, no, you misunderstand my use of the word- mediators, in the sense of a go-between. I had come to the decision to take up residence on Coruscant some time in the near future- the title of Countess on the planet of Madame Crigan is not one of nobility as you would think, but a statement of income. As such, I need to keep a steady maintenance in business and the city planet centre of the galaxy is an ideal location for such a stream of activity." The Countess explained.

"That's wonderful news! I hope your prospects go well on Coruscant." Ben agreed, an evident expression of delight on his face.

"That may depend on you, Sieur Ben Skywalker." The Countess replied, giving the three an uneasy impression, "You see, I may be well known in rumors on Ord Mantell, but, as surprising as it may seem, I have no contacts inside the galaxy. To be honest, you four are the first I have ever actually managed to establish a meeting with who were willing to sit with me through a meal." Ben blushed, modestly, and cast a look back to his cousins to speak of his pride, as this was obviously an achievement in the Countess's concern, "As such, I would like for your families to act as my way of transitioning into the society in the Core Worlds and Inner Rim." She explained. Jacen and Jaina took suspicion to this statement, which the Countess warmed to, "Of course, the reason for my request is two fold- one being that you are the first two families I have been able to establish a firm contact with, and the second being that I would care to maintain good relations with the Temple and the Arena, as religion, education, and politics play so crucially in the lives of citizens. I would even go so bold as to say that in the Old Republic, the Senate often would ask of the Jedi Order to similar tasks to avoid conflict between natives and foreigners."

"I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't mind- just as long as you don't come calling every hour of the day... things are a little hectic." Ben replied, with a smile, to which the Countess smiled back.

"Don't worry- I'm low-maintenance as far as aristocrats go." She replied, "And as for the second request I have, it shall have to wait until I come to Coruscant- I may need your parents approval for this." Jacen and Jaina looked singularly uncomfortable at that statement, even as the Countess assured them it was nothing dangerous- merely time-consuming.

In spite of the unease, lunch was, indeed, more enjoyable than the previous two invitations from the Countess.

* * *

The CMC stood on the platform of the transport center, watching as the ship that Ben and his cousins had left on cleared the atmosphere, a mixed look of sorrow and anticipation in her eyes before she returned to the hover carriage, paid the driver his fare, and then said he was relieved of his rental to her.

She chose to walk all the way back to her hotel room.

As night fell, she peered out of the window in her room, staring up into the sky, as though she could see the ship from so far away among the stars.

"Gornash." She said, sharply summoning her steward, whom had been given the day off.

"What is it, Milady?" He asked, his manner somehow both more professional and more relaxed in the solitude, than in company.

"I know you believe in Fate..." She said, quietly, "What I need to know is if you believe in God..."

The steward called Gornash bowed his head, solemnly.

"I did, once, until he turned his back on us." He replied.

The Countess smiled- truly, genuinely smiled, without malice or mal-intent.

"Don't worry... God hasn't forgotten you entirely." She whispered, placing one hand on the window, her smile becoming a grimace.

"Unlike some souls in this universe..."

A/N: Yes, the game of sabacc is meant to be symbolic and you wouldn't BELIEVE how long I spent poring over Tarot Card explanations, trying to figure out the best hands. If you can figure out what the particular rounds are meant to symbolize, you get a cookie.

As for the music box, I imagine it playing a music box version of 'Across the Stars' from the Star Wars soundtracks. Just in case you were wondering.


	4. Chapter 3

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Again, see the prologue for disclaimers. Just so everyone knows- I'm getting a lot (okay, all) of my information and interpretations off of wikipedia entries. I generally do not have patience to read through a book which is similar to the prequel trilogy of the movies in terms of characters, plot, etc. There is also the fact that my local bookstore does not CARRY these books.

To reviewer sining rain- Sorry dearie, but, while your interpretations do make sense now that I think about them, they're not what I was intending. You got the cards right, but I'll give you a hint- The Idiot was supposed to refer to Ben, and both his hands are somehow related to him. I guess I should have said the game was also supposed to be foreshadowing, as well as symbolic. Sorry.

Chapter 3:

Dawn found Ben Skywalker still abed, much to the displeasure of his parents, though his mother more vocally than his father.

"It's your own fault for going to bed so late last night- now get up." In all fairness, she was wrong about the 'last night' portion of her sentence, as midnight is technically considered a morning hour. Ben disregarded his mother's voice and attempted to hide under his pillow. This was prevented as his mother pulled his blanket off.

"Look at you- a sniper would get you through the window and you wouldn't even know it." She scolded, while Ben attempted a vain recapture of his blanket.

"...Mercy..." He managed to plead.

"No, sir- mercy stops at midnight." She replied, with no real malice in her voice, but plenty of annoyance. It was thus, with great reluctance, that Ben crawled out of bed and attempted to get ready for the day.

At eight-years-old, most children wouldn't have been able to tell that their parents were nervous or upset- at least, not too much, as most children do have a sixth sense where their parents are concerned- but Ben knew before he even saw his father's face that there was something serious bothering him, and that it had to do with the fact that the Countess was going to be arriving today.

Ben normally was on tense terms with his parents, but this morning was especially thick with tension. Ben tried to tiptoe around his parents when he had to be around them and his mother and father made very special care to not say anything they didn't have to. A stranger in the household would have thought that somebody had died in the family.

The heavy silence was relieved as a ship arrived at the immigration dock. Instead of a large ship as he'd expected, it was just a single flighter- barely big enough for two people, before Ben realized that the Countess was probably coming to greet them alone, while a different ship with her household was landing somewhere else and moving into an apartment. He was still surprised, however, when _Madame'le'Cri'gan'du'Come'te_ popped from the shuttle, then reached behind her to help her younger sister out, onto the platform.

Ben's face brightened, especially as Jacci, hiding behind the Countess's skirt and tightening the scarf that she wore, covering her entire scalp, wriggled her fingers to say hello. Ben waved back, as his mother raised an eyebrow.

"You know her?" She asked, suspiciously. Ben's expression quickly darkened.

"Yeah." He replied, with an edge of 'What are YOU going to do about it?' to his voice. It wasn't pleasant for Ben to be fighting with his parents like this- he rather liked them as people. Ben loved his mother, dearly, and looked to her with the respect similar to a boy's crush on an older, attractive teacher, as is common with all children whose mothers are still young and beautiful, while he admired his father as a man of principle and honor. The problem, however, seemed to have come where the Force came into question, causing his parents to have respect and faith in the Force, while Ben honored more common peoples who had no connection to the Force whatsoever.

"Ben was kidnapped because he wasn't paying attention due to a girl, remember?" Ben heard his father remind his mother and he saw her nose wrinkle. His own expression wrinkled, and Ben decided to take initiative and walked towards the Countess and her sister.

"Welcome to Coruscant, Countess- I hope things go well for you here." Ben said, extending a hand to shake, with a smile. The Countess blinked for a moment, then smiled, shook her head and knelt to one knee- Ben saw, suddenly, that she was actually wearing a pair of pleated pants, not a skirt- before she took the hand Ben offered and turned it over.

"On Madame Crigan, the women shake hands and a gentlelady kisses the back of a sieur's hand, much as men do with ladies in this system." She explained, playfully pecking on Ben's middle knuckle in a similar manner as a grown man might to a little girl offering him flowers. Ben snickered a little, particularly as he could feel his parent's paranoia rising behind him, before he turned and offered his hand to Jacci, who kissed the back in a much more intimate manner as the Countess righted herself.

"In any case, I am deeply grateful to you for going to this trouble." The Countess added, bowing a little, and Ben instinctively bowed back.

"Not at all- I am the one indebted to you. I should be thanking you for coming." Ben replied, before turning around, "Milady, allow my to introduce you to my parents- Jedi Masters Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade Skywalker." He added, the names of his mother and father feeling strange as he so rarely spoke them.

Ben didn't seem to notice how intensely the Countess's gaze was fixed upon his father, or how her lips went thin as the gaze shifted to his mother. It was a barely fractional change of expression, not even Ben's parents saw it, but he did feel some strange stir inside the Countess, as though a beast which had been caged up in hibernation for so long was suddenly beginning to wake and claw at the bars.

"It's an honor to stand in the presence of the two most influential Jedi in the galaxy. I have been anticipating this for a considerable amount of time." The Countess said, smiling. With a strange smile, Ben's mother extended her hand, which the Countess clasped, firmly, before turning to Ben's father and kissing the back of his hand, a bit more seriously than she had Ben's.

"The honor is ours to meet the woman responsible for saving our son's life." Ben heard his father say, which made him feel significantly unhappy that he was arguing with them- when his father said things like that, it reminded him that, as much as he disagreed with them about religion, his parents still loved him a lot.

"If that is whom you wished to meet today, then I'm afraid you are speaking with the wrong woman. It was Selle Jaina and her brother who deserve all the credit to the rescue, not I." The Countess replied, humbly. Ben saw his mother smirk.

"Then why did the Solo twins credit you with paying the ransom sum when they were essentially backed into a corner?" She asked. The Countess shook her head, almost sadly.

"No, no- supplying the finances is one thing, actually planning the rescue is quite another. The bandits were rather thorough, essentially delivering an ultimatum of 'If you do anything other than what we say, he dies'. If there had been even a single loophole, I have no doubt that the two of them would have been able to return your son to you without my interference." The Countess replied. Ben heard his father sigh.

"However, there was no loophole and your assistance was needed- and very appreciated, at that- so we must insist." He replied. Ben looked to Jacci and saw that her eyes had been darting between his parents and the Countess, as though they were playing catch and she'd been watching the ball.

"We could probably circle this topic for a few days, if left to it, couldn't we?" Ben heard his mother finally interject, "Why don't we just say thank you, you say you're welcome, and leave it at that?" The Countess and his father chuckled, slightly, before agreeing.

"Although, I must say- I expected you two to be a bit more upset that your son had been abducted, at all." The Countess mused, as they began to walk.

' ' Grown ups . . . ' ' Jacci's hand said, curled around Ben's. He smiled.

' ' They ' re weird , alright ' ' He agreed.

"Oh, we're right upset- but, I think, just this once, we'll live." Ben's mother replied, looking back at Ben and Jacci holding hands, "It might be rash of me to think this, but I'd say that he's grown-up a bit more because of the experience." The Countess also looked back, then smiled.

"Actually, that may be a very different reason." She replied, and when Ben's mother questioned her, the Countess gestured to the two, "A VERY different reason, indeed, or did you not hear about the compromising situation they were abducted from?"

Ben and Jacci both flushed.

"No, I didn't..." Ben's mother said, slowly, in a tone that made Ben want to duck.

"Well, then, you've missed many an interrogation opportunity. I suppose we shall have a mutual partnership in our endeavors, from this point on..." The Countess noted, grinning like a devil. Ben saw his mother's expression match hers and the two shook hands again, as though agreeing on a bargain, and he realized that they were planning on harassing him and Jacci from this point on about their relationship.

Business went well enough with the countess- though Ben couldn't have possibly imagined what kind of business a simple transition into Coruscanti society would imply. Jacci sat with him, waiting for the adults to finish talking, before he finally asked her.

' ' What is the Countess going to do as business here ? ' '

Jacci smiled, mysteriously.

' ' Surprise ' '

Suddenly, both of them sneezed.

#!$()!$!&#$!#$#$&

"I have one question, though, Countess..." Mara Jade Skywalker asked, resting her chin in her hands as her elbows perched on the table the three were around. The Countess raised her eyebrows, calmly.

"About that sister of yours..." Luke Skywalker rolled his eyes, knowing Mara's overprotective streak was now kicking in, similar to how Han Solo reacted to any young man that wished to court his daughter.

"If you have objections to Jacci's attachment, I must ask you to take the issue up with her, not me. I'm afraid I have little control over emotions, even my own, just as any person does." The Countess replied. Mara frowned for a moment, but continued to speak.

"I just want to know why she is so... physically attached?" Mara clarified, and Luke relaxed, realizing that it was more the issue of security that his wife was concerned for. The Countess also seemed to realize this and continued to smile.

"Perhaps because your son is such a catch that she just can't bear to keep her hands off him?" She suggested, playfully. Mara grinned, and then relaxed.

"So, Ben was the one who offered to do this? I'll have to make him eat an extra helping of vegetables to thank him." She sneered. The Countess sneered, as well.

"Nonsense... He's a dear boy. He was the one insisted that he do something to repay me for the rescue mission. You two must be very proud of him." The Countess's sneer faded into a kinder smile. Luke couldn't help but smile as well at that.

"We are- even for his age, Ben's mature, and serious enough that we know he can take care of himself, but he's also understanding and compassionate enough that he isn't ostracized by his peers." Luke agreed.

"I should think that, given time, Sieur Ben could go far and away beyond his expectations, and not at all in a manner that would cause any harm. I could see him as a well-revered teacher, a prominent politician who truly represents the will of the people, or even a clinical psychologist... he seems to have that empathy that most living beings regard as a weakness instead of a strength, and it could serve not only him, but also those around him if he were to learn how to harness his gift properly." The Countess added, with a reflective look, as though reminded of something lost in the past.

"So, is that the precise reason you asked what you did of us?" Mara suggested, "You wish to act as a teacher in developing that very ability?" She didn't sound at all pleased with this development. The Countess frowned.

"Ability? No, Madame Jade Skywalker, I must have misspoken to a cross purpose- when I spoke of his empathy, I meant as a trait. The ability of the soul, of the personality, to be able to feel another's pain, to be able to relate and understand another person without the demeaning air of sympathy." She clarified, making hand gestures towards her chest to accentuate the point. Luke tilted his head, considering the matter.

"You're saying then, that if he developed that trait of his personality, it would be a useful aspect for him in whatever he choses to do in his life afterwards?" He asked, and Mara could see an idea forming behind her husband's eyes.

'So, you're thinking that if Ben comes to understand other people better, it will make him more accepting of using the Force?' Mara asked him through the Force. Luke sent her a knowing glance.

'Empathy like that is one of the most important traits for a Jedi- it would be the best course of action to develop those traits and it might change his perspective on using the Force.' Luke replied, and Mara had to agree with him.

"We would just hate to impose on you, Countess." Mara finally said, and the Countess waved it away.

"Hardly- I'm going to be busy a great deal of the time with business people, bankers, realtors, insurance agencies, and the like. I will need the companionship of someone not related by blood or paycheck to make my day a little more bearable. Especially in these first few weeks- I'll be so bombarded with salespersons of some sort that I'd almost swear I was under an attempt at assassination for how DULL they are..." The Countess reassured them.

"Now, we simply need to ask Ben if he wouldn't mind to this agreement." Luke concluded, standing up. Almost on cue, there was a knock and the door opened, Jacci coming in to tug on the Countess's sleeve and hand her a slip of paper asking if they were going to go home yet, because she was tired and hungry. The Countess smiled and patted her sister on the top of her head, right where the scarf was.

"We have just one more thing to talk about and then, we'll go." She promised, pulling Jacci into her lap, where she curled up.

"Ben, this involves you, too. Come in here, please." Mara called, knowing her son was standing right outside the door. Ben popped in, looking confused, before he made himself comfortable on a chair.

"Sieur Ben, you recall when I asked you to lunch on the last day of your stay on Ord Mantell, I said that I would have two favors to ask of you- you have completed the first, being my mediator into Coruscanti society. I then told you the second would have to wait until I had your parent's approval. Here it is, now- I would like you to call upon me every week on the last day at an hour past lunchtime."

"Yours or mine?" Ben asked, and when the Countess replied 'General', "So, thirteen hundred hours?"

The Countess shrugged, "If you are accustomed to military time. I would like to have some company to break the pace of daily routines- I might ask you to stay the rest of the afternoon, or maybe for just a few minutes, and I would be more than understanding if you had previous engagements, within reason, and had to leave early. Your parents agree that it might be a good experience for you to spend time with someone such as myself- the fact that I've traveled a great deal would give you plenty to learn from these visits- and on occasions when I might have emergencies to attend to, it should be healthy for you and Jacci to have someone close to your own age to spend time with."

Ben frowned, tilted his head to one side, and finally spoke.

"It's not that I don't like the agreement- I'd be more than happy to do this- but it seems a little frivolous."

"My, what a vocabulary you have at your age."

"I'm serious."

"As am I."

Ben paused and gave the Countess a very solemn look, as though trying to calculate what was going on behind her eyes.

"Are you really sure you'd rather have this kind of bargain? I can think of a lot of other ways that I could return my gratitude which would be much more productive or profitable..." Ben said, in the same tone of voice as his father had when trying to be absolutely certain of a person's motives.

"Riches do not buy friends." The Countess replied, gray eyes growing dark, "It is a painful lesson that I've learned and that I do not wish for Jacci to be forced to learn. If profit and wealth could provide a person with true, amiable companionship, I would have long traded in my entire fortune, save just enough that Jacci and others who live under my roof would be able to live without fear of hunger or a lack of roof over their heads, and gone to happily starve in the company of those who truly cared."

The Countess's monologue was met with a variety of reactions. Jacci was clinging to her elder, as though worried she might keep those words, while Ben blinked, face blank, but somehow understanding all too well what she meant. His parents, on the other hand, were staring at the Countess with expressions as though they thought she must surely be either mad, ridiculously sentimental, or just plain silly.

After the pause, however, Ben smiled, brightly, and assured their guest that he would keep his promise.

* * *

As the Countess left, she arrived at her address in the center of the Works. She slowed the hover car to a halt and parked it inside the loading bay of a much larger ship which had been reshaped into the form of a house, and were greeted by her steward, who looked like he might begin to cry again at the stressful choice of location.

"Come now, Gornash- show some spine. If we were going to land the ship where we can have some clear land that nobody will object to us settling on, we should be bold in the choice instead of perching on the border." The Countess scolded, lifting her sister from the seat again and dusting her off.

"B-But... Milady..." The steward stammered, his hair practically going another shade of white as the unreasonable Countess brushed past, carrying the sleepy little one.

"My decision is final. Now, is dinner prepared? You know I don't like to be kept waiting." She asked, and her steward straightened, knowing when a fight couldn't be won.

"Dinner is ready- in terms that has been kept chilled so it would not spoil and will be warmed shortly to be eaten. But before that, you've had a contact from a notary about your wish to rent that specific apartment you questioned about." He reported, following her. The Countess stopped in her tracks, sighed, then turned to hand Jacci to her steward, who took her and straightened.

"I knew I would be swamped this first week." She grumbled, as though it would be such a bother, removing the gloves on her hands, "Feed Jacci promptly- she was nagging me to leave because she was tired and hungry. Have the others eaten yet?" The steward shook his head, "And why not?"

"I asked Suna- she didn't complain."

"Suna survived for three years in the desert on rodents that Sarlacc didn't swallow up- she wouldn't complain if she had a broken leg and was bleeding from her windpipe. What about Hiken or Haid?" The Countess snapped, frowning and folding her arms, "Hasn't Ouduar come to find you asking where dinner is? And I'm sure Tilus' bottomless pit of a stomach is protesting the fast quite heartily."

"Hiken has been more concerned when you would come home- he drew some pictures for you as a housewarming gift- Haid wanted to be in the greenhouse to be sure Baji put everything in a pleasing arrangement, Ouduar and his mother are taking a nap, and I haven't seen Tilus since-" The Countess cut him off.

"I don't want to hear the boring details- just set them all down to eat, post haste. And I will contact the notary as efficiently as possible." The Countess walked off, briskly, arriving at the holopanel, connecting it to the appropriate channel, and sitting comfortably in a hover cushion as the notary came into view.

"Good day, milady... I trust I find you well?" He asked, politely, and the Countess didn't smile back.

"Of course. If you wouldn't mind, I would care to skip formalities and conclude business as soon as possible."

"Certainly... Um, first, there is the deed of rental- I presume you wish to have this residence for quite some time?"

"Obviously."

"And you are absolutely certain that it is this particular apartment suite that you would like to rent?"

"Beyond any doubt."

"Very well... I shall send the contract over to you. Please sign it and return it within reasonable time..."

"Excellent." The Countess mused, turning to the press, "By the way, where is this apartment of mine located?"

The notary was floored in astonishment.

"You mean to tell me that you haven't even seen the apartment yet?" He asked, incredulously.

"How the bloody devil could I have seen it? I arrived only just today and spent all my time with my mediators arranging business." The Countess said, sharply. The notary blinked, then gave her the information she'd requested.

"Ah, you're quite sure you want to have this apartment- it's been in a poor condition for a while now."

"Then I suppose I shall have to repair it. This really isn't that difficult, sir." The Countess replied, signing the notices and sending them back. The notary shook his head, but took the papers anyway.

The Countess reclined on her cushion, rubbing a hand over her eyes before she felt a pair of arms go around her.

"She won't be out until next week, Dreja. You can wait." She said, tonelessly.

"You're renting the apartment where I was conceived. I'd say that warrants my attention." A voice purred in her ear. One hand groped liberally lower, before the Countess held a blade up to his throat.

"Leave." She commanded. Dreja sulked, but left just as she asked.

After a moment of contemplation, the Countess stood and walked towards the dining room, only to see it empty except for the steward gathering plates.

"Where is everyone?" She asked, curiously. The steward didn't look up.

"Bed." He answered, simply, "And Hiken wants you to tell him a story."

The Countess shrugged and found her way into the room which had been designated as their youngest member's. The red-brown haired boy had the covers pulled up to his nose, but his eyes were wide open watching the door for when the Countess entered.

"Hiken, Gornash told me you wanted a story tonight." She said, sitting next to him on mattress, "Big brother is going to be very busy for a while, so what story do you want to hear?"

"The baby that turned into a monster."

"Well, in that case...

* * *

"A long time ago, a prince needed to find a princess to marry. He searched many worlds trying to find her, until he found her one day, and she agreed to marry him and the two tried to have a child. However, she had already been engaged to another man, but the princess realized, too late, that she would have a baby. The prince didn't want the princess to be unhappy, so they consulted a doctor, who managed to keep the child in a place where the princess's husband wouldn't find out about it, and after many years, the prince and princess had forgotten completely that they'd ever had a child.

"The baby, however, grew up in an orphanage with many other children, who teased him because they thought he was an idiot- he would always tell stories about how he was really the child of a prince or an emperor, and they always told him the same thing;

" ' Telling stories like that will get you nowhere.' And, indeed, the little boy grew up as a little liar- because nobody believed him, he learned to tell only lies to get people to do what he wanted, and soon enough, people began to learn to not listen to anything he said.

"However, one day, a kind old gentleman who lived next door to the orphanage was visiting the orphanage and adopted the little boy. Unfortunately, even as the old gentleman's sister treated the boy kindly, he grew to be the most wretched, wicked thing you had ever seen. The poor old man, having been in a war many years ago and having killed many other soldiers, believed that he was being punished for his cruelty as a soldier.

"As for the boy, he ran away from home one day, and the old man, struck with grief at being unable to care for the boy properly, died from sorrow the next day. His sister was left with a lot of money to pay off because of his death. When, lo, one night, there came a knock on her door and a handsome young man stood before her- he was dressed like a nobleman, and told her that he was a marquis seeking shelter for the night. The sister knew that it was never wise to upset a nobleman, so let him in and made him supper. The Marquis thanked her and settled down for the night. The sister remained awake for late into the night, but around midnight, she heard stirring in the Marquis' room. She went in to check if he was alright, but the Marquis' voice said he was fine.

"The next day, the gentleman left the house, saying that he had some things to do in town and that he would return that night and ask for shelter again. He gave the sister a gold coin and disappeared for the day, and when he came back at night, he ate his supper, and went to bed. Again, around midnight, the sister heard noise in his room and knocked on the door to see if he was alright. Again, the Marquis said he was fine.

"The next day, he left the house again, saying the same thing as he did the day before and leaving the sister another gold coin. Today, however, the sister went into the room that the Marquis had stayed in the night before, because she was curious to what the noise had been for the past two nights. Inside the Marquis' room, she saw a large trunk with a huge lock on it. She didn't have a key and knew no way to break the lock, so she decided to wait until that night, before she heard the noise, to go in and steal the key from the Marquis' belt.

"That night, the Marquis came back, ate his supper, and went to bed. Just before midnight struck, however, the sister slipped into the room, to see the room was empty, except for the trunk. The sister looked around, wondering where the Marquis had gone, before, as she stared at the window, the shadow of the Marquis appeared, dragging something. Apparently, every night, he'd been silently slipping out through the window and going to find something, and the noise had been him dragging something through the window every night. Before the sister could dart from the room, the Marquis had jumped the length of the room and had her pressed against the wall with a hand over her mouth.

" ' You were disobedient, ' He scolded, ' And, now, you shall pay for it. ' And he flung open the trunk, in which the sister saw three dead bodies of young men who used to be children at the orphanage. It was then she recognized the Marquis as the wretched little boy her brother had adopted years ago, before he flung her into the trunk with the bodies, locked it up, and disappeared into the night."

"Did anyone ever find him?" Hiken asked, fingers clenching at the blankets with terror. The Countess smiled, softly.

"Yes- somebody found him, and he can't do anyone anymore harm. At least, not if the person who found him doesn't want him to. But now, you need to sleep- Goodnight, Nii-Nii." The Countess kissed his red topped head and left the room as he fell asleep.

* * *

Ben was having an enjoyable dinner with his parents for the first time in a long while. The tension seemed to have dissipated, at least for the time being, and the conversation was at least a little warmer than polite remarks about the weather which they'd been confined to to avoid a fight.

"Did you have fun on your trip to the carnival, aside from the abduction?" Ben's mother asked, spooning a disproportionate amount of some revolting green vegetable onto his plate. He cast her a dirty look, but didn't complain.

"Yes, and I learned a lot while I was there." He replied, surprised when his father gave him a bemused look.

"Did you- I was under the impression that Jacen just said that it would be educational so you three could have an excuse to go." He said, with a kind of smile that said he'd known of the farce all along. Ben's ears went red.

"Yeah... Jacen said something like that a few times... but Jaina really wanted me to learn something on the trip- and I really did. For example, the reason Ord Mantell holds this carnival every year is because, at a certain time of the year when it was still a smuggler's base, the grass would turn red, and so, they used to hold executions, where bounty hunters would hold a contest to see whose target had the highest price on his head, and then, that person would be killed in a manner other than a blaster or lightsaber, which wouldn't allow for blood loss- usually, they would crush the person beneath a rock, and that's where the execution device of the presser originated from- and they believed it was the bloodshed that caused the grass to turn red." Ben said. Both his parents looked at their food, which was slathered in a red sauce and then gave their son The Look. Ben glanced down at his plate, realized his error, and all three of them snickered at the same moment.

"What do you think of the Countess?" Ben asked his parents, which they had to think long and hard about before answering.

"I think she is... polite... cautious... and... ready to answer any question asked of her." His mother finally concluded. Ben frowned, but knew that it was indeed true, "What do you think of her, Ben?"

Ben considered carefully, then did his best to choose a few precise words.

"I think... that she is very wise- because she seems to know that there's always more to everything than meets the eye, and is able to form very solid ideas based on that. And... she obviously cares about people, but doesn't let that interfere when she knows that something has to be done about some unjust behavior... and, you're right, she is overwhelmingly polite..." Ben thought back to the discussion she'd had earlier in the day with his parents, insisting that she didn't deserve any credit for his rescue.

"She certainly seems to want to have very specific things about herself be kept secret..." Ben's father added, and Ben couldn't disagree with that, either, "Whether its because she has secrets to keep, or because they're matters that really are nobodies business, I can't tell..."

Ben saw his mother give his father a concerned expression.

"Farmboy, don't tell me you're losing your touch..." She teased, and Ben's father shook his head.

"...It's... something odd... Ben, you know how you can cloak your presence?" Ben nodded as his father continued, "It almost feels like that with her, except she's perfected it so brilliantly that I can't even tell that she's hiding. I can't even tell if she has presence in the Force or not... it's almost as though she isn't really there, but there's just a perfect hologram walking around in her place." For the first time, Ben heard his father frustrated, and it frustrated him, too- not because of his empathy for other humans, but because he too felt frustrated that he couldn't understand the idea of someone being so completely non-existent.

"That sounds like what your barrel-can droid was saying, earlier." His mother added. Ben and his father looked at her with surprise.

"What about Artoo?" Ben asked, and the astromech, as though hearing his name being called, beeped and rolled over, much like a dog that had heard his name mentioned and wanted to claim the credit for whatever the company had been saying about him. Ben's mother tapped his dome shaped head with her fingernail.

"He was playing peeping-tom during the whole time the Countess was here and recorded everything." And, obligingly, Artoo projected a recording of the meeting between the Skywalker parents and the CMC.

Except it appeared to only be the two Skywalkers, alone in the room, talking to something that only they could have seen or heard. Neither the Countess's image or voice were in the recording. Even as the conversation went on, Ben saw himself enter the room, and realized that Jacci hadn't been recorded, either.

The family stared, frowns appearing on their faces, and all of them focusing on the same thing now.

"Who IS she?" Ben's father asked.

"Or what?" His mother added.

* * *

In her residence, the Countess sneezed.

"Milady, are you alright?" Her steward asked, with real concern. The CMC rubbed her nose a little, but assured him that she was fine.

"Do you know which banker would be the best to go to, tomorrow?" The steward asked. The Countess smiled.

"Do you remember who I am?" She replied, and that was answer enough.

To anyone who might have heard the conversation, it would have been impossible to tell if her question was meant as a statement or as a reiteration of the obvious.

A/N: If you don't understand the stuff about everyone sneezing, it's an old superstition that if you sneeze, it means someone's talking about you.

I actually have no clue who to put as the banker that the Countess will go to. If anyone has any ideas for an appropriate Star Wars Danglars, tell me. Other wise, I'll either pick a guy at random, make up a s#!&load of stuff, and put him in, or create another OC. And nobody wants that.


	5. Chapter 4

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Again, I don't own any of the characters. I receive no remunitions, nor would I really want to, on characters such as Mara Jade, Jaina and Jacen Solo, or the Hapan Consortium. I am glad, however, that nobody has pegged any of the OC characters thus far as Mary Sues- you would not believe how happy that makes me, given how much I despise such characters.

To singing rain- how about I give you my e-mail address so we can discuss the topic further without spoiling it for the other readers, since you seem to really want to know what the symbolism was? (wish (dot) granter (at) hotmail (dot) com)

Chapter 4:

The Countess entered the newly rented apartment, glancing around with distaste at how poorly the property had been treated , even by the landlord. The light fixtures were broken, the walls peeling, the stairs creaked, and many of the surfaces such as built in tables, counters, and inlets for decoration pieces were cracked and decaying.

"Excellency, if you would care to have a different apartment, there are others- probably not bigger, or even as big, but I would be more than willing to compensate you for the rental fee. And all of them are in the topmost condition, too." The landlord offered, still unsure of his wealthy renter standing in what had once been the most expensive and elaborate apartment in the Coruscanti Diplomatic Envoys District.

"Before this disrepair, I dare say this apartment would have been suitable for a queen, don't you think?" The Countess replied, giving the walls a glance, as though imagining what it might have looked like before it had fallen apart.

"...As a matter of fact, it almost was... except..." The landlord paused, and the Countess turned, looking interested in this.

"Except? Does that mean there is a story about this residence I have not yet heard? Come now, out with it." She said, and the landlord looked around, as though to be sure they were not being eavesdropped upon, finally closing the door and a light coming into his eyes as the Countess produced a box which, upon opening, held a black pearl with the diameter of the wedding ring around his finger to compensate him.

"Well, I'll be frank with you- it's an affair that many people would like forgotten. Many years ago, long before the war with the Vong, the Hapes Consortium came to Coruscant with a proposal for the Senator Princess Leia." The man was sweating, very heavily, the bald half of his head gleaming with beads of perspiration, "They came bearing a great deal of wealthy gifts, from jewels, to weapons, to land, to plants, and the final gift was the Chume'da- Prince Isolder. He needed to marry a strong woman of the noble classes to be the Queen Mother of the Hapes cluster, and the proposal was, essentially, if the Senator were to marry Isolder and become the new Queen Mother, she would get all of the wealth and power of the Hapes Consortium."

"Always the goal for the wealthy, keeping money and power within their classes..." The Countess noted, though not without an obvious contempt for such aristocratic practices. The landlord looked nervous for a moment, then hurriedly explained, not wanting to be the man who ruined the good name of their most respected politician in the eyes of their new patron.

"W-well... at the time, an insurgence was being waged on the Republic by old warlords of the Empire- the Senator had gone to Hapes to ask for funding, and the proposal had been their reply. Besides, the Senator thought it would be a multi-faceted good victory- not only would she have the funding she'd asked for, and more, but also firepower, political influence, and it would have added a significantly sizable portion of space to the Republic, and the war would have ended quickly with billions of casualties spared." He replied, while the Countess listened, disinterestedly.

"I assume you were going somewhere with this?" She asked with annoyance.

"Yes, yes... in any case... this is the apartment that was reserved in the Senator's name while she was undergoing the decision. However, this was also the site of a great deal of violence- we had fires, explosions, and blaster fire- because, as the Senator was going to be married to the Prince, a number of factions were attempting assassinations."

"Ah, so it's more political superstition and separation of classes." The Countess surmised, before the man quickly went on to thoroughly explain.

"Well, actually, if you want the opinion of myself and my wife, the Senator was actually seriously considering marriage to the Prince, not just for political reasons, but because she actually did feel that she cared for him... You see, the Prince spent many nights here while he was visiting the Core Worlds- part of that was for security purposes, because, since she wasn't Queen Mother yet, they couldn't provide formal guards, but if he remained with her, his own bodyguards would be required to protect her as well as him. If you asked me, the Senator actually did develop a good deal of affection for him..."

"I did not." The Countess replied, sharply. The landlord swallowed, nervous at the imperious gaze that the Countess had fixed on him, eyes unblinking like a snake watching it's prey. He bowed a little, posture beginning to resemble a crooked old man who is accustomed to begging for his bread and water.

"Of course, I was simply saying... Err... that is, it was well argued that the Senator actually did begin to form a romantic attachment for the Prince- they spent a great deal of time here together, and there were even a few nights that he insisted on sleeping beside her... just so he might be able to defend her at a moments notice..."

"I'm amazed that the Prince was so open about his sleeping habits with her Majesty." The Countess noted, an eyebrow raised. The landlord's face flushed, his bald patch sweating even more precariously.

"Aaah... well, I went to the liberty of installing security holos in the rooms- for pure purposes of security... that's why they're called 'Security holos', right? I thought, since it was the Senator staying, I should contribute my part to keep her safe..." The landlord paused, seeing the expression on the Countess's face, and turned very pale, "Oh, please don't say anything about it- after so long, it wouldn't be worth anything... and if it were, I'd lose the ownership of the building..."

"I'm sorry- my mind wandered for a moment on the subject of ventriloquism. How did you say you came to know of such intimate details, again?" The Countess replied, smiling sweetly, bringing some healthy color back into the landlord's face.

"Oh, nothing illegal that you need be concerned of... But, in any case, the Prince's security was as well matched as it was reputed to be. I recall that one night, while keeping a vigil to make sure no threats came to the Senator's room- during the day, she'd been waiting for her hover car and an assassin had hijacked the vehicle and attempted to shoot her- when the Prince suddenly looked into the holo and spoke directly to me.

" ' Landlord,' He said, ' I'm aware that you're only keeping your civic duty to Princess Leia, but it would be in her best interests to allow her some privacy from a few angles. ' Well, Excellency, he obviously knew I was watching, and I had to obey the will of a guest, so I turned on the speaker so we could communicate.

" ' Begging your pardon, Prince, I only had her Highness's best interests in mind. '

" ' Your concern is appreciated, but not needed. '

" ' What would you rather me do, then, Prince?'

" ' If you could turn off those holos and audio records of yours, just for tonight, I'm confident that nobody will strike. Assassins always take a rest for a few days to regain the element of surprise.' And, well... I did as he asked. However, it was rather odd, but a cleaning lady came in the next day and she felt it necessary to report something incredibly odd to me... you know how much ladies like to gossip, right, Excellency?"

"Continue with the story, not an editorial." The Countess replied, with a frown.

"Of course... well, in any case, she brought to me the bed linens.

" ' Landlord, you must inspect these cloths- I'm not sure if my nose is still working.'

" ' What the devil possibly be wrong with your nose?'

" ' Well, these bedsheets, sir... from Princess Leia's apartment...' And, at first, I'd thought that they might have... you know... the usual mess- it would only be natural for a couple about to be married, but the maid was quite insistent.

" ' Very well,' I said, ' Let's have them.' And, sure enough, there was a smell on them, almost like a kind of foreign perfume, one which she hadn't smelled on the sheets many nights before, even when the Prince had shared the Senator's bed.

"I thought it would be wise to consult a chemist, possibly a doctor- after all, the Senator's life was at stake, and if someone had placed poison in the room and the smell on the sheets was from that... well, you can imagine how great an honor it would be for a man like myself to have uncovered a plot such as this, especially since the offender could only have been the Prince, since he'd asked me to turn off the holos..."

"Your powers of deduction are uncanny." The Countess noted, though it didn't sound like praise at all, and the landlord went pink again.

"So, I sent for a chemist- an old friend of mine from school, and quite adept in his profession at that, if you have any doubts, since he'd been the chemist to form an antidote for a toxic houseplant that had made a child sick- and he assured me that it was no poison. There were some toxic chemicals in it, such as ammonia and sodium hypo chloride, but it was obviously more of a cleaning solution, and the perfume smell was actually the scent employed so that the more toxic chemicals wouldn't be dangerous if inhaled."

"Most fascinating..." The Countess agreed, with a bored expression.

"...Well, that's where my involvement in the story ended. If you would like, I could give you a brief summary of the events that followed..." The landlord offered, but the CMC shook her head.

"If I wished to spend that much time listening to a story such as this, I'd spend my time with a storyteller who could provide me with all the details possible." She said, shortly, before changing the topic, handing the landlord an extra box, this one with two more pearls in it, these ones as big as shooting stones, "With your permission, I would like to make the repairs and adjustments myself. I can promise that there will be no hazard to your building, and the expense to change the decorum for a new renter will be minimal."

The landlord, now in the possession of two magnificently wonderful pearls which were so rare to be found at any price in the galaxy, quickly agreed.

"I am greatly indebted to you, Sieur Gespa Caarousse- now, if there are no more papers to sign, I must ask you to leave me to my own devices." The Countess said, bowing in a courtly fashion, which Mr. Caarousse returned, before leaving her alone in the dark room.

The Countess moved as though it were litten with the brightest light of the sun, undisturbed by the darkness.

" 'Love is not love/ Which modifies when a modification dost seem/ Or twists with the shaper to shape/ O, no! It is an unending duty/ Which guards through fire and is never met with bullet...'" She whispered, to nobody in particular, "...Or is it, Princess Leia?"

There was nobody to answer her.

* * *

The landlord, Gespa Caarousse returned to his residence in the apartment building, late at night, to find his wife waiting for him, anxiously wondering what the verdict was on the business of the day. Mr. Caarousse set down the boxes that he'd gotten over the course of the day. 

"You wouldn't believe the madwoman who came by today. She'd arranged to have the three-story apartment in the Diplomatic Envoys district rented." Mr. Caarousse said to the madame, who's eyes bugged out.

"And you refused her?"

"Well, no, not really, dearest... but everyone knows that place has been haunted since the Hapes affair."

"I don't care if there was a Sith Hound roaming in that old apartment- that piece of property brought in at least a third of our yearly salary while we rented it out. And I'd say you're a madman to say anything about your superstitions that might frighten her away before she stays too long." Madame Caarousse spat, furious at her imbecile husband, who held up his hands, placatingly.

"Now, now, lovely... it's not what you think... on the contrary, she gave me these three black pearls to compensate me for the story." Mr. Caarousse opened the boxes, revealing each of the precious stones. Madame Caarousse stood and leaned in, staring in rapt amazement.

"My... how perfect they are- it's so rare to find pearls so large... and an elegant color, too. We could have them set in a necklace or some kind of ring as a family heirloom." She breathed, before her husband lightly struck her upside one of her temples.

"Don't be ridiculous- where do you think I was so late? I went to see a jeweler and he informed me that these three pearls, together, would be worth eighty-thousand credits. I shall sell them at the next opportunity and we shall have money to spend- perhaps we could even purchase a new hover car, or something." Mr. Caarousse whispered back in a conspiratorial tone.

"Eighty-thousand credits... That's a lot of money..." The madame breathed, before her husband's excitement turned to disgust.

"But it's not a fortune..."

* * *

The last day of the week came quickly, but not without it's preparations. More than a few of the graduated students of his father's academy had been busy interrogating Ben for information about this mystery Countess. Though, none more interested than Kyp Durron, Tionne Solusar, and her husband, Kam Solusar. 

Unfortunately, however, Ben's given age did not provide him with the credibility of his father, and when Kyp asked for more details on his meeting of the Countess, Ben's story was generally passed over as a little kid's fantasy.

At last, the day came and Ben took up the three Master's challenge and asked them to accompany him for his visit after lunch. Much to his surprise, Ben also found his cousins waiting to come along, citing that the Countess had planted her residence in the Works and they refused to let Ben wander into such territory alone.

"I don't suppose our presence counts for much, does it, Master Solo?" Kyp asked, disdainfully of Jacen, who smiled, sarcastically in return.

"Why, Master Durron- you don't consider that you may be the very ruffian we intend to protect Ben FROM? That's very shortsighted of you." He replied. Kyp's fist clenched, but he didn't rise to the bait.

"What a coincidence- that was our precise line of thought." Tionne interjected, preventing any further argument, which Jaina smiled at, and added.

"Then, you wouldn't mind the extra reinforcements?" She asked. Tionne smiled, more than willing to continue the banter, before, much to everyone's surprise, there was a call from the ground. As they made their way down, Ben's eyebrows lifted to see an unusual contraption, one which was attracting a great deal of attention from bystanders.

It appeared to be a vehicle of some sort- a covered, wooden transport, silvery embroidery around the edges, and ebony wood gleaming with polish. By itself, it was unique, but not strange. What made it particularly appealing to a curious mind were the four, gleaming circles that touched the ground, which seemed to be, for all intents and purposes, keeping the transport supported. With a curious glance, Ben saw the Countess's steward with white hair step down from the forwardmost box- which seemed to be the driver's seat- and hold the door open for them. With raised eyebrows, Ben, the three Council Masters, and his cousins all entered the transport, and there was just enough room for all of them.

"She was expecting us..." Kam Solusar mused, frowning at the spacious interior, "I can't imagine this Countess, however extravagant she might be, would reserve six seats for a single boy who's only eight years old."

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if she was expecting us." Jacen said, looking put out, "This Countess has somehow known every turn in the future before it's happened... She anticipated the result of the executions, she knew about the bandit's before we told her, she even knew what the ransom was."

"So, you two are going along with Ben's story? Everyone knows that Ord Mantell doesn't have bandits anymore- there hasn't been crime like that since before the Vong." Kyp put in, looking disgusted that the trio kept insisting on the story of Ben being kidnapped.

"But it's true!" Ben said, glaring at Kyp, "And if you don't believe me, ask the Countess's sister- she was with me and we were both kidnapped together."

"Now, there's suddenly a sister this Countess has- why don't you just admit that she slipped you three a few hundred credits to do this for her, made up a story, and it's just the aristocracies at work again?" Kam asked, with a frown.

Ben pouted but, again, Jaina interfered.

"I wonder what the strange contraptions are on the outside of the car..." She mused, not saying 'hover car' as it was all too obvious the thing did NOT hover.

"They're called 'Wheels'." Tionne helpfully supplied, "They used to be a method of transportation for bikes, cars, and skates, except they became impractical for uneven surfaces, especially for Coruscant where only ground dwellers would be able to use them as the city grew farther from the ground. It's almost impossible to find transportation that uses wheels these days because of the popularity of hover craft." The argument between the men in the car was halted as they all stared at Tionne, wondering where, precisely, she learned things like this.

"That sounds a great deal like what Threepio said about her other eccentricities- when she first contacted us, she used paper instead of a holo or comlink, and she and all of her servants wear an unusual kind of cloth and style, almost like vine silk, except it isn't. I'm still convinced that she has to have at least some connection to organized crime to have access to these things..." Jaina noted, with a frown. Tionne raised her eyebrows, looking honestly interested, while her husband waved it off.

"You sound just like Ben- I suppose this Countess can also fly on objects which clean her house and turn durasteel into gold, too..." Kam asked, incredulously.

"I wouldn't put it past her to have at least some method that makes it seem that way." Jacen replied, "Threepio also reported that one of the rumors that had been going around Ord Mantell was that she was an alien whose main diet was humans, and that was the precise reason that she was disguised as one."

"Shut up, Jacen." Ben snapped, indignantly.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Ben- I hear they enjoy the blood of virgin boys almost as much as girls." Kyp added, though with a teasing smile. Ben's face flushed, before he snapped, politely.

"In that case, you'd better watch your own back, Master Durron, especially since you have so much more blood for her to drink." Kyp shot his former master's son a dirty look, while the two women shared an exasperated gaze that said, quite clearly 'Men...'

The car suddenly jerked to a stop and everyone looked out the windows, looking up at the residence of the Countess's.

"This is the same ship that we saw landing a week ago, isn't it, Tionne?" Kam asked, frowning. Tionne was also frowning, making a similar note, before the door opened.

"Please be careful as you step out- there's debris everywhere." The steward motioned, extending a hand to assist them out. As the group made their way inside, Ben couldn't help but wonder why the Countess would have chosen to make her residence out in the middle of the abandoned machine yards, where this house of hers was almost guaranteed to become a target for vandalism, robbery, and destruction.

They reached the inside corridor, following the steward up the stairs to the room in which they all assumed the Countess was- it was filled with plant life and the walls glowed with green light. The plants were in pots, along the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and even curled around wooden pergolas and gates. There would be an occasional large boulder covered in a sparse amount of moss, surrounded by plants, and the sound of either a fountain or a miniature waterfall could be heard from somewhere in the room.

And, as a soft undertone to the water running, somewhere inside the greenhouse, there was the sound of a young girl singing and the sound of a stringed instrument being played. Following the sound, Ben inadvertently led the group towards the noise of the water- it was, indeed, a miniature waterfall, going over flat stones and through hollowed tubes of wood.

And there was a person there- a young woman in a robe-like dress made of a featherlight silk material, belted all around her lower ribcage and abdomen, trailing on the floor with a pattern of fish swimming. Her features were young, quite fair, but again, that trademark uniqueness and oddity- her skin was a light blue, as though a Rutian Twi'lek had bred with a white-skinned member of their race and produced the odd combination. However, while this alone would not have been too odd, she also appeared to have hair- where the lekku should have been, the girl had dark blue hair, held up by a Twi'lek headdress that covered her ears and held back the dark bangs that framed her face.

She was playing an instrument akin to a box harp, except it seemed as though someone had fastened two of them together and run breaks of wood through them. She sung in a soft, pretty voice in modern Ryll- none of the company could tell what she was saying, but it was clearly a hymn of great importance to her.

The music stopped and the girl turned to glance towards them. Ben could see her eyes were a soft, dark black, like someone had drawn them on the whites of her eyes with charcoal and blended the edges. However, she didn't seem to notice them... perhaps she was blind?

"Shaku-sama, were you listening?" She finally asked, and everyone jumped- Ben could have sworn he heard a high-pitched squeal, before realizing it was his- honestly very shocked as a voice came from behind them, as though the speaker appeared out of thin air.

"Yes, Haid- it was lovely." It was the Countess, who walked over and sat next to Haid, barely noticing her company, "That almost sounded like number thirty-two from the book of poetry you were reading the other day."

"It was- but I wasn't sure what to do with some words..." Haid replied, smiling shyly. The Countess finally turned, taking notice of the assembled, "Sieur Ben, I'm glad to see you remembered the engagement, even to the point you bring your company along with you."

Kam, Kyp, and Jacen all shared a suspicious glance, wondering if she was feigning surprise or really hadn't been expecting them.

"I'm sorry to bring them along without permission, Countess- I hope you don't mind, but some of them were doubtful that I was telling the truth about you." Ben replied, bowing slightly as he apologized, then turning to make introductions, "You already know Jacen and Jaina..."

"Yo." Said Jaina, earning a look from her twin.

"And these three are members of the Master's Council- Master Tionne Solusar, her husband, Master Kam Solusar, and Master Kyp Durron." Ben did his best to be polite- as much as he'd like to heckle Kyp, given how alike they tended to be, which seemed to cause friction in their personalities, he knew that it wouldn't be very helpful to the Countess if he didn't give her his name.

"Ah, the very paragon of a devoted soldier." The Countess mused, eyes fixated on Kyp. The group blinked at her, in surprise.

"Oh, you've heard of Master Durron, then?" Jaina asked, sitting down in a chair made of woven wood.

"Not at all." The Countess replied, smiling that wide smile of hers, and gesturing to other chairs which the guests could seat themselves in. Almost instantly, the steward appeared, and Haid looked about, uncomfortably.

"Do you want me to leave now, Shaku-sama?" She asked, hesitantly, touching the Countess's knee in a shy gesture. The Countess took Haid's single hand- Ben could see how tiny it was, almost like the hand of a glass doll- in both of her own.

"Not at all- why, it seems Master Tionne has a keen interest in you. Perhaps you share a pastime?" The Countess turned to Tionne, who was, indeed, staring intently at Haid or, more appropriately, her instrument.

"I've never seen an instrument like that before- might I ask, Miss Haid, if that might be something of your design?" Tionne asked, and Haid blushed lightly, her cheeks going a darker shade of blue.

"Y-yes... though I can't take any credit for it's creation... I'm useless with tools." She seemed to be shrinking away from company, and Ben felt incredibly sorry for her, realizing that she must be painfully shy and unused to large numbers of people. The Countess put a hand on her lower back and pushed to force Haid to sit up straight.

"You play very well, though. I don't understand Ryll that well, but from what I did understand, it sounded a little like it was a ballad of some kind." Tionne continued and, while it made no sense to Ben, who didn't know Tionne that well, it seemed to occur to the older ones in the room how well the two were hitting it off.

"Ah- it is. Actually, it's more of a folk song from my home planet, but it's the story of the famous mythological lovers, Lumiya and Eydmion- the Moon and the mortal man who she fell in love with. I'm not very good at poetry, though- I'm just a musician." Haid replied, eagerly.

Ben felt something like a shift next to him and glanced at his cousin, Jacen, who looked like he'd just sat down on something uncomfortable.

"Oh? What planet is your home?"

"I was born on the Outer Rim in one of the more prosperous systems- my mother was a Twi'lek slave, and my father was a human bureaucrat who bought her and gave her her freedom."

Jaina blinked.

"Oh, so you ARE a crossbreed." She said, before covering her mouth, everyone else staring at how blunt she'd been, "Sorry... that was thoughtless of me." Haid just smiled.

"It's alright... most people wonder when they first see me."

"Well, it should be at least obvious that you're part Twi'lek- your mother would have to be for you to inherit your good looks and grace, if you don't mind me saying." Kyp replied, with cheek, but Haid tipped her head, curiously.

"Actually, my mother was rather clumsy."

The looks on everyone's faces caused Haid to suddenly burst into snickers.

"So, was it your father who taught you how to play music?" Tionne asked, leaning forward, and Haid nodded.

"Since my mother was a slave, she had no formal education. Father taught us everything he knew- actually, as soon as my mother got the hang of numbers, she found she was a much better accountant than the one my father had hired." Haid replied, with a smile. Ben couldn't help but smile himself at how much Haid was glowing, speaking of her parents.

"So, are all three of you staying with the Countess for business reasons or..." Ben stopped as Haid's face fell, and nobody needed to be told what that meant, "...I'm sorry..."

"It's alright..." She was soft as she spoke again, everyone else hanging their heads, as though in a moment of silence, "Shaku-sama has been like a mother to me since she saved me from the hands of another bidder."

The word 'Bidder' seemed to rouse everyone, except the Countess, who appeared to be dozing as her elbow rested on the arm of the bench, eyes closed and a smile on her face, as though Haid's mere voice was like music to her ears.

"You're a slave?" Jaina asked, and Ben could feel the intense dislike and mistrust for the Countess rising in his cousins again, before he blurted out.

"No, she isn't! She just told us- she's a musician." The older Jedi in the room slowly turned to stare at him, frowning. Haid blinked, soft black eyes widening, and the Countess's eyes cracked open, her small smile not fading. Ben stared right back at all of the Masters, not blinking, firmly, before Haid's giggling broke the silence.

"Jacci-shaku was right..." Haid whispered, looking at Ben as though she was regarding an old friend, "You really are... a good person..."

Ben's cheeks colored, before the steward entered again.

"Is something the matter, steward?" The Countess asked, drawing everyone's attention to him. The steward bowed, before speaking to Haid.

"Selle Haid, Ouduar says his mother is having a nightmare again and would ask you to play a lullaby." He said, stoically. Haid's eyes widened.

"Oh, certainly... I hope none of you mind my taking my leave..." Haid turned to the company, but the Countess waved her hand.

"If any of them are offended, that's their problem, not yours." She said, dismissively, and Ben held in a snicker, as he could feel Jacen's indignation rise up, as though sensing the Countess was indirectly speaking specifically about him. Without another word, the steward took Haid's instrument, hung it on his back by a strap none of them had noticed before, before picking Haid up and carrying her away in his arms.

There was a silence following Haid's departure, before the Countess finally spoke.

"She's such a blessing... I don't know what we shall all do if the day comes that she decides she wants to strike out on her own." She said, staring after the route that the two had left, fondly.

"But, to listen to her, I think she's perfectly happy staying here." Ben said, but the Countess didn't smile.

"There is nothing so inconsistent as the heart." She replied, distantly, "I would not expect her to remain with such feeling forever." And then, as though a new person was taking her place, the Countess sat up, smiling brightly, "Ah, but you all went to the trouble of taking time from your schedules to pay a call- how rude of me to spend the time in a mope. Let's go to a more open room and have some refreshments." There were a few confused looks, as the Countess had pronounced 'schedule' with an 'sh' instead of a 'sk'.

All the company stood and followed the Countess to a room with a large picture window that looked out onto the surrounding dump which was the Works. However, just as she had on Ord Mantell, Ben noticed, the Countess didn't even touch the food or drink before her.

Apparently, he wasn't alone in his observation, as Kam Solusar quickly displayed.

"Countess, in all the tales Ben has told us of you, they all have this much in common, where you invited guests over for a meal, and then proceed to stuff them full of food while not taking a bite of your own. Are you fattening us up for some sort of harvest?" He asked, and though the statement was full of the doubt and mockery of superstition that his and Kyp's earlier remarks had held, it caused the three cousins to suddenly spit and choke on the juice that the Countess had poured.

"Surely you jest- even if I was, I could never fit six people into my oven at once." The Countess replied, seeming to have caught the not so thinly veiled reference, and ignoring that the three Masters were openly staring at Ben, Jaina, and Jacen. They recovered quickly enough, without the Countess's interference, so it was probably for the best, anyhow.

"If I might ask, Excellency, why did you chose residency so far out here- in the Works, of all places?" Kyp Durron finally, asked, glancing out the large window. The Countess smiled, welcoming the question as a teacher does from her students.

"Ruins like this are to me as realms are to a Queen. These are my people- the poor, unfortunate souls who have been forgotten, left behind, and abandoned. It is those in pain- in need- who I was sent to comfort. That is my mission." The Countess replied, "Whereas the elite society, I normally do not encourage customers from the upper classes- the business that I run is of no use to them, because, in most cases, the wealthy or high placed elected members of any kind of organization, from politics to religion, would go and achieve for themselves, in less troublesome ways, what others would come to me for. Instead, they come flocking in, crying 'Will you help us?' with a 'Pretty please' on top, and I help them, indeed, but then it goes to waste, or they will beg me for advice, my reply will be concise, and they'll listen very nicely, and then go out and do precisely what they want. It's very frustrating. And, especially when it leads to their ruin, and their families come to place blame on me, only to find that it was their relative's own stupidity that led to their downfall." The Countess paused to take a breath, obviously upset by the topic, then reached into her pocket and withdrew the same box that Ben had seen on Ord Mantell, opened it, and quickly swallowed one of the pills inside. Her shaking subsided after a moment.

"What is your business, then, Excellency?" Tionne asked, steering the conversation on to, hopefully, a topic which would not incite another rant. The Countess was silent, considering how best to put it, before her steward, once again, entered the room, whispered something into her ear, which made her eyebrows go up, before she stood.

"It seems there is a customer, downstairs- why don't you come along and maybe seeing with your own eyes will give you a better understanding." The guests all stood and followed the Countess again, this time down the stairs, until they reached a room on the ground floor. There were walls of woven wood, making an almost gate-like wall, which the guests situated themselves behind, watching what would unfold.

On the other side of the room, there was a young man, about eighteen or nineteen- he was obviously accustomed to living out here in the Works, but not in the stereotypical ways that one tended to think of as 'Poor people'. He didn't wear rags, but what he did wear was stitched together many times over, holes in the knees of his pants and the sleeves of his shirt torn off. His fingers were wrapped in bloodied bits of cloth, as though he'd cut them while he was digging in someone's trash- that was the obvious telltale sign that he was poor, if he couldn't afford bacta patches- and his shoes were mismatched, one looking too big while the other was obviously too small.

"What can I do for you?" The Countess asked, pulling out a chair and offering the young man to sit down. He took the seat, uneasily, with an edge as though he wanted to be able to run out at any given opportunity- he was glancing around, nervously, at the room- unlike other rooms in the house, it wasn't dark or elegant, but lit with a soft white light, and the walls were a warm green and blue. It seemed more like the kind of room you would find in a therapeutic hospital than in an aristocrat's house, and it's intended effect seemed to work, as the young man sat back a little further in his chair, but still looked around with suspicion.

"...Are you the woman who can do anything?" The young man finally blurted out. The Countess didn't seem surprised at his awkwardness, or behavior.

"I am."

"Really? Are you some kind of magician or something?" He demanded, looking even more unsure. The Countess didn't smile her usual smile- the one which infuriated Jacen so much- but her eyes did soften.

"Magician? No- just a woman of many talents, and anything that I cannot do, it is guaranteed that there is someone in my household who can." The Countess replied. The young man gave her a wary glance, before he finally said.

"What about medicine? Do you have a medic on staff here? Or are you one yourself?" He demanded. The Countess gave him a severe look.

"If this is a matter of someone's health, please be more to the point- you might be wasting time on their life." The young man went pale, then looked down before saying, at last.

"It's my sister..." The Countess nodded, the prodded on.

"How old?"

"Fourteen."

"Do you need a diagnosis or a cure?"

"She's not ill."

The Countess's eyes widened, fractionally, and Ben could see her pupils dilating.

"She's pregnant, then..." It wasn't a question. The young man nodded.

"Of her own will?"

"No."

"Does she know who or where the father is?"

"No."

"Have you gone to other clinics?"

"Yes... Two volunteer setups on the lower levels... But one said we needed to make a payment to cover cost of materials used and we just... we don't have any money, at all... the other was actually a counseling clinic trying to change our minds about the procedure, completely... and we couldn't find an adoption agency who would be willing to talk to us."

"Out of options, she has to carry to term, and then care for the child. Now, tell me, what is it that you want me to do?" The Countess only sounded impatient in the sense that she wanted to be able to come to what she needed to do to help.

"...Well... I saw that you have this huge house... and since you have to be a noblewoman of some kind, I figured you could always use the extra help... could you..."

The Countess's soft gaze turned into a scowl.

"You want me to take the two of you in, and provide your sister with the food and medical care she needs, and you plan to pay for it by working on the staff." The Countess surmised, and then crushed the hopeful look on the young man's face, "Except that would mean, if anything were to happen to me- which is always possible, as I'm just mortal- you two would be back where you were, and this time, in a much worse situation."

The young man slumped backwards into the chair, but the Countess remained still, as though thinking about something, before she finally turned, the steward moving instinctually forward.

"Fetch a holo with a newscast- particularly the Help Wanted." She instructed, and the steward left to do so. The young man, looking as though he thought he was forgotten, stood to leave. The Countess pointed back towards his chair.

"SIT!" She commanded in an imperious tone. It was almost comical, especially in the look it put on the young man's face, before the Countess spoke again, "What are your skills, young man?"

"Skills?"

"Abilities- things you do well. We need to have something to work with." The Countess pressed, and the young man, though perplexed, answered her.

"Well... I've never had formal education, but I can do basic math pretty well... add, subtract, divide..." The Countess frowned a little, "And I've got pretty good people skills..."

"No formal education is going to be the biggest issue... but, if we look hard enough, there's always someone desperate enough, crooked enough, or generous enough to overlook it..." The Countess mused as the steward returned with a holo of Want Ads. The Countess spent a few moments going through it, and finally, her eyebrows raised. Ben had the feeling, however, that it was good news, this time.

"Mosep Binneed... He's decided to open a bank on Coruscant and is looking for tellers..." The Countess finally said, "He used to be the accountant of Jabba Desilijic Tiure- more commonly known as Jabba the Hutt. Since Jabba died and the Desilijic clan went under, though, he's been trying to make an honest name for himself. Given his background, I doubt the lack of formal education would bother him- as long as you can take the training... and, from what this ad says, as long as you don't embezzle like his most recent layoffs, the job will be paid for training and limited health benefits."

Ben heard Jacen snort in disbelief and then a grunt as though something had hit him in the stomach- probably Jaina's elbow. Even the Masters sounded doubtful.

"That sounds too good to be true..." Kam Solusar mused, under his breath, but Jaina hissed at him.

"It IS true- I saw his ad in the HoloNews this morning." Jaina looked indignant, "She's just reading him the truth."

Even the young man looked doubtful, before the Countess pushed the Holo towards him, and his expression changed from doubtful to astonished, then disappointed.

"That's too far away... I'd never be able to get to work, even if I did get the job..."

"That was my thought..." The Countess agreed, before pushing something towards him- a piece of paper and a writing utensil, "Try those."

Ben squinted, unable to clearly make out what was on the paper, but as the man began to write, pausing often to count on his fingers, Ben realized that she'd just passed him a mathematics aptitude test. His jaw dropped, until the young man passed it back, looking confused as to what he'd just done, but the Countess was smiling again.

"These were mathematics questions from an algebra class- you probably won't need nearly this much ability with numbers to be a teller, yet you could still complete most of them without even using a calculator. You're a bright enough young man to do just fine supporting yourself and your sister under employment... you're just in the wrong place for it..." The Countess finally surmised, and while Ben shared a glance with his cousin, she continued, "So, here is my proposal- I will be more than willing to loan you and your sister the money you need to move. I was looking for an apartment, myself, in the Inner City the other day- there's a decent apartment still available in the Financial District, that you should be able to afford once you begin receiving your salary."

The young man was outright gaping at her as she went about the details of how the loan would work- Ben knew little about finance, but he did understand that, essentially, the Countess wouldn't be burying him in debt- Jaina had whispered an explanation of 'Simple Interest' and had let out a low whistle at the figure '0.5'.

"There is, however, a second price- one that you won't pay to anyone in particular, but just something that you will have to sacrifice. Because you're taking on a job, you have to give up time, for one thing- the parts of the day that you're used to spending with your sister, you will have to be in an office or behind a counter, keeping your mind on your work, and carrying out your duties professionally. Furthermore, you will have to structure your sleeping and eating schedule around this new responsibility- you will only be able to sleep during specific times of the rotation cycle, most likely at night, and another person will give you instructions, maybe even orders, and you must swallow your pride and follow them."

The declaration was met with a long stare from the young man, whose expression became sharper and sharper with each word. But Ben didn't get the sense that he was darkening- just becoming more and more determined.

"That's alright." He finally said, and the Countess smiled, standing and extending a hand. Ben watched, expecting her to display the courtly manner which had made his parents nervous, but instead, she shook the young man's hand as he stood.

"Now, go with the steward- he'll have a vehicle ready to retrieve you and your sister, and with the appropriate things you'll need to get started." The Countess said, making the young man's jaw drop.

"Now?"

"Of course- how else are we supposed to know where to find your sister?" The Countess said, as though it were obvious. The young man blinked, but finally, cracked a smile.

"Should I leave my name with you, Ma'am?" He asked and the Countess shrugged.

"I have no preference." She replied, indifferently.

"Dantes, Ma'am." He said. The Countess raised her eyebrows, then smiled.

"Edmond?" She guessed. The young man smiled, and nodded.

"And your sister's name, Sieur Edmond Dantes?"

"Mercedes."

The Countess's smile grew, before she turned Edmond towards her steward and gave him a push to send him on his way.

Then, she strode over to the doors and pulled them open, coming face to face with her guests, who were all staring at her, utterly confused.

"Did that answer your question, Master Tionne?" She asked, sweetly. Both Kam and Kyp made faces as they responded.

"Not at all." Tionne, being better mannered, simply shook her head. Ben, on the other hand, seemed to seriously consider the matter, along with other things that he'd observed.

"You..." He said, slowly, before finally finding the best words he could for it, "You... give people what they want..." The Countess smiled, though thinly, at him.

"Find a noun for it." She said, as a hint. Ben's brow furrowed, as did his cousin's before Jaina finally looked right at her, as though also remembering something.

"Wishes." She said, at last. The Countess's smile didn't fade.

"That's right. I'm a Wish-Granter." She replied, "That's my business."

Jacen sank into a chair, staring at the Countess as though he didn't know what to make of her.

"So... that's what you also meant when you said your business would be wasted on the higher class and the wealthy." Kam surmised. He wasn't asking.

"Yes, indeed. Because a bureaucrat would just pay as much money as they could, and have their wish granted in a way that caused them the least inconvenience, not realizing that taking the easy way to their goal only causes them more trouble, while other higher class citizens would assume they know better than a mere Wish-Granter and disregard what I tell them, anyway." The Countess replied, and as her knuckles turned white again, she reached into her pocket and, again, pulled out the box with pills in it, swallowing another.

"Those are the same pills you had on Ord Mantell." Ben noted, then snapped his jaws shut as his cousins stared at him, but the Countess seemed pleased that he remembered.

"These are adrenaline suppressants, which inhibit the flow of aggressive hormones in the body and lower blood pressure- I use them to keep my temper under control, particularly in a situation such as this. For you, Sieur Ben, they worked as an antispasmodic." The Countess explained. Jacen and Jaina looked less than pleased to hear that Ben had swallowed one of those pills, particularly without their knowledge.

"When was this?" Jaina demanded, her manner growing rough. The Countess paid it no mind.

"Shortly after the executions- while you two were waiting for Sieur Ben to regain consciousness." She explained, while Kyp and Kam looked to Tionne to answer their question about the executions.

"Ord Mantell holds public executions as part of it's yearly carnival, usually at the conclusion." She said, and Ben could sense more than a little exasperation from the Master that said 'Couldn't you learn a little more for yourselves for once?'

"You two took BEN to see that?" Kyp asked, incredulously. Jacen's face contorted, as though Kyp had just said a swear.

"If we had a chance to do it over, we wouldn't have even taken Ben to the carnival- not for all the trouble it's brought us." He snapped.

"Sieur Jacen, you wound me." The Countess interjected, placing a dramatic hand on her chest to illustrate how wounded, not to mention insincere, she was. Jacen gave her a disgusted expression while even the dignified Master Tionne and Kam had to hide their smiles.

"You're the whole reason we had that trouble on Ord Mantell- your sister was the one distracting Ben, so he got kidnapped, and he wouldn't have gone wandering off in the first place if you hadn't insisted we come to that show." He snapped, pointing at the Countess's chest, while she continued to smirk, before Ben interjected.

"Stop acting like a kid, Jacen!" All eyebrows in the room raised, especially since it was Ben making this statement, "I was the one who was just dying to see it in the first place, and I was the one who asked you two if I could go for a walk. I'm the one responsible here, not the Countess."

Jacen's face twitched.

"Regardless of who's to blame, I'm not sure about the Sieur Ben, but Jacci has been becoming increasingly better since your meeting on Ord Mantell. She's been smiling almost every day, particularly if you're mentioned, and sleeping better at night. All things being the same, I certainly wouldn't change my decision to take her with me to the carnival." The Countess said, pacifyingly. Kyp finally gave the Countess a serious look, before asking.

"If it's not too rude, would we be allowed the pleasure of meeting Miss Jacci? Ben described her a little too fantastically to believe." He asked, matching the Countess's smile.

"As do all young men in love." The Countess agreed. Ben's ears went red and his eyebrows twitched.

"I didn't exaggerate THAT much..." He protested. Kam Solusar gave him a twisted look.

"A Goddess?" He asked, and Ben's face went even redder.

"...That was a metaphor... or a simile... She just looked like how Goddesses in myths are described, that's what I meant when I said..." Ben's excuses stammered to a halt as he realized all the adults in the room were laughing at him, "Shut up!"

It was well timed, then, that Jacci poked her head into the room, wearing a hat that covered all of her scalp, again, today. Her green eyes gleamed as she surveyed the unfamiliar faces in the room, before smiling as she spotted Ben.

"Jacci, don't be shy- come out and say hello." The Countess gestured over. Jacci slowly crept towards her, keeping as much distance as possible between her and the strangers, clinging to the Countess's silk pantleg, but not hiding behind her as she had done in the presence of Ben's parents.

Ben shot Kyp a triumphant look, saying 'I told you so.'

"She's very cute." Kam commented, and Ben sensed this kind of longing coming from him, almost hearing the thought 'If Tionne and I had children, is this what they'd look like?' as he extended a hand to Jacci- Ben assumed he was just following the tradition that he'd related of ladies kissing the Sieur's hand instead of vice versa. The Countess, however, reacted with mild alarm.

"I wouldn't do that..." She said, but a little too late.

CHOMP!

Jacci's teeth had sunk clear into Kam Solusar's middle finger.

"...She doesn't take too kindly to strangers..."

* * *

The visit was cut short, as soon as Kam's finger had been healed- the Countess hadn't exaggerated, she was a proficient medic- and the party found themselves back in the room that the car, the Master's said their farewells. 

"I have just one more question for you, Excellency." Kyp Durron said, as her steward prepared the car for mobility. The Countess smiled, similarly to how a girl would smile fondly at her younger brother.

"Yes, Master Durron?"

"You said earlier that you were sent to this part of the planet, specifically, to comfort the people who inhabit it- you described it as your mission."

"I did."

"Who set it for you?"

"Nobody of name."

"So, it's a personal endeavor?"

"No."

"A religious pilgrimage?"

"...I suppose that's the best word for it..."

"What, then, sent you? The Force?"

"No."

"A God?"

"No."

"Spirits?"

"No."

Kyp frowned, as though he could not contemplate what it was that the Countess was pointing towards. She had a very blank look on her face, as though she knew how it was frustrating him, and was doing this on purpose.

"What, then?"

The Countess smiled.

"Whatever may be." She replied, simply.

Kyp frowned, but then allowed her to shoo him into the car, shut the door and the car left.

The Countess watched the company, then turned back and gave her sulking little sister a severe look.

"Don't look at me like that- you know better than to bite."

A/N: If you look closely, you'll see that I took a few lines from one of Shakespeare's sonnets- though I did revise them, a little, as, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, they didn't have our dear Oxford scholar.

Just so you know, when Edmond Dantes was talking about his sister being pregnant and all the crap that they had to go through, healthcare-wise, I was tempted to put in a rant about the whole issue. But I didn't. ...Just so you know...

And, for the more astute, yes, I realize Edmond Dantes was Mercedes' fiancé in the book. It just seemed nice that they could be together, in SOME way.


	6. Chapter 5

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Just a little housekeeping before beginning- I'm sorry if the last chapter kind of put people off a little. If it was stuff about the Countess, like her 'business' or the scene with Monsieur Caarousse, I'm sorry, but it's essential to the plot. If it was my poor attempts at humor... again, sorry- I have no excuse for that. If it was Kyp Durron-tachi and you didn't like how they were portrayed... don't worry- I shouldn't slaughter their character's too badly... they're like the Chateau-Renaud of this fanfic... And probably won't show up again.

If I'm mistaken and nobody was too put off by the last chapter, I apologize for mistaking it, but after four chapters in which virtually everyone leaves a review, and suddenly, nobody reviews for chapter five... it does tend to make me think that people have stopped reading- I can't be sure...

Chapter 5:

_Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te_ usually treated those on her staff generally well, compared to what was considered acceptable behavior among the upper class gentry.

This has nothing to do with the current story- it's just something the reader ought note, or very little will make sense in several scenes, and the way the Countess will behave towards her employ will not be as warning or foreshadowing as it would be with this knowledge.

For the moment, which happened to be nighttime, the Countess's steward, by the name of Gornash, was sleeping. His sleep was not restless, but nowhere near peaceful, as nightmares usually tend to make one's REM cycle easily disturbed.

He dreamed very briefly, but vividly, not of an imagined figment, but of a portion of history- a piece of the past of someone in the house, whose nightmares he'd seen more than once as he'd tried to keep them away.

It was a boy, only thirteen years old, inside a cell. The walls were made of metal, welded together so tightly that it wouldn't even be possible for a lame man to find a grip to pull himself to his feet. No light entered the room, except from the emergency lamp outside the door for the security guard to see by.

The guard wore the uniform of a Rebel soldier. This was one of their prisons- floating out in space, so tightly secured that no one could escape.

The boy made no sound, and was barely discernible under his mane of dirty hair, which had grown out so long that it was almost as long as he was tall. Occasionally, eyes would peek out from between the tresses, staring into the blackness, as though he could see something in the lightless room. Hands stuck out from underneath the hair, attached to whatever body he possessed by a pair of arms that were thin, and bony, with skin that was wrinkled and a pale yellow, and flesh that hung off the bones like empty sacks.

All over the cell, the words were written 'Let me out'. The boy's fingers were stained red, as though he'd dipped them into some kind of berry juice, or bloody meat, or red ink. But, after a few moments, he started to claw at the floor, the skin and flesh quickly coming away from their bones, but, as he stared at them, irises tiny against the overly exposed whites, and pupils consuming almost all of the iris, the fingers healed almost immediately, only leaving the stain of blood on them, and the fingernails growing back to their claw-like state.

Contrary to what most stories or dramas say, people do not awaken from nightmares with a start. Even from violent ones, with explosions, blood, and death. People awaken from nightmares the way they awaken from dreams- their eyes open, and they realize they're no longer sleeping. The only difference is, with nightmares, a person's eyes will open and insomnia usually keeps them that way, while pleasant dreams will cause a person's eyelids to flutter open, blink a few times, and then the sleeper will burrow under their covers again, trying to keep dreaming.

Such was how Gornash found himself back in the world of the living. His green eyes opened, pupils dilating, then contracting again in the darkness that wasn't quite as dark as the insides of his eyelids. After a few moments of staring at the wall, he sat up, then left the mattress, pacing around the room to find something to do, but in the end, he left his sleeping quarters and made a brisk pace towards the room with a large window.

The Countess was there, reading a book without any kind of light, whatsoever- even the window, though it shone with the colors of the night sky, gave off no light, as the stars were so small and faint, and the moon was gone from the sky. Were it not for her pale, almost luminescent skin, which showed at her elbows, face, neck, and small portion of her collar, and the bleached white ruffles that spilled from the ends of her sleeves and the part in her hoopskirt, she would have been practically invisible in the room, which was just as black as her dress and hair.

As she could see perfectly well in the darkness, however, she noticed as Gornash entered the room. Gornash, endowed with a hard-earned, equally keen sense of night vision, crossed the room in three strides and knelt before the Countess, took one of her hands, which was covered in a silk glove, in his own, and pressed his forehead against the back, head bowed into her lap. She didn't react with any visible surprise, except to lift her other hand and stroke his hair, fingers catching on any tangles or knots, and rubbing the strands together to ease them free and back into their original state.

"What brought this on?" She finally asked, as Gornash turned his head and rested it against her knee, more like laying his head on a pillow. He was silent, but finally answered.

"...I saw it, again..."

"I see." The Countess replied, hands shifting to ease the tension in her steward's knuckles.

"...It just bothers me... That another person would go through that..." Gornash whispered, while the Countess listened, "...It was bad enough... being trapped was one thing... even being in the spice mines was another... but... to be in a cell... confined, with nothing to do but ponder over what had happened to you... not even any kind of light to see by... not even the company of another person to ease the loneliness..."

"Ah, but you're forgetting..." The Countess corrected him, and Gornash suddenly nodded.

"...Oh... yes... there was someone else... after a few years..."

Gornash closed his eyes and breathed in, deeply, letting the woman who, by day, was his employer, comb her fingers through his hair, making sure that none of it was tangled after her work.

"It's all in the past, Gornash. Whatever sadness or sorrow any person of this household has been through, it's over now. They're free."

Gornash's eyes opened.

"Are they?" He asked, shifting a little so that his green eyes met hers, which glinted silver in the darkness, "Are any of us truly free? You, who remembers every moment, even the tiniest details of your past? Me, who dreams of them every time I close my eyes? Haid, whose songs and poems are nothing but the story of her past? Jacci, who has to endure the memory every time she looks in the mirror? How can any of us be free, if our pasts continue to follow us, no matter where we run to?"

One of his hands clenched in the Countess's skirt, but she paid it no mind.

"It's over. The past is over- even if the memories remain. That's part of why we have memories- if we forgot our pain, we wouldn't be the people we are. Besides..." The Countess stood, though Gornash remained on his knees, both hands firmly in her grip, "...Doesn't that make life right now all the more sweet? To know that, whatever it was that we suffered, we survived, and look at where we are, now."

Gornash was pulled to his feet. Standing, he was well over two feet taller than the Countess.

"If freedom is what you seek, I will give that to you." The Countess warned, a predatory gleam in her eye, and not at all in the way that one normally thinks of statements like that, "I, for one, have no desire to be free, for to forget what I have endured would take away my resolve to complete my mission. And I highly suspect that the others here would prefer their current situation to the only alternative that true escape from the past."

Gornash shuddered at how the Countess could manage to be sweet, motherly, and comforting one moment, and the next, she would change into a dark, brooding character whose only thought was the nihilistic idea of death being the only true escape.

"But, for now, why don't you go back to bed and get some actual rest?" The Countess's demeanor changed, again, as she spoke with a smile.

Gornash nodded, and left, as the Countess returned to her seat, and picked up her book again.

* * *

Han and Leia were having a discussion of their own, except it was more in a manner of pillow talk. Particularly, about their son.

"I just have a bad feeling- that's all..." Leia whispered, while Han attempted to soothe her, running a hand up and down her back.

"How bad? Like, how is it different than just being paranoid?" He asked. Leia closed her eyes and contemplated a moment...

"It's... It's like there's a wall..." Leia finally said, pantomiming the idea of a wall with her hand, distractedly, "...Maybe I'm just bothered that Jacen and Jaina are pulling away... but, with Jaina, I can still feel that she's there... I can still feel that connection, I can still have this sense of where she is and if she's at least alive... But Jacen... He's disappeared from my senses completely... I couldn't even tell if he was dead or alive during the war..." The lower half of Leia's face was buried against the pillow.

"But they're alive, now..." Han reminded her, hand stilling for a moment, "A lot happened during the time with the Vong here... Remember- that's what's causing all the troubles for the Senate? You should be focusing on that more than Jacen and Jaina- they can take care of themselves, they're adults, now."

Leia closed her eyes, briefly, then opened them again.

"I feel like that would be bad parenting, though..." She mumbled, her voice muffled, as though she didn't want to be heard.

"No- bad parenting would be if Jacen and Jaina came to us and asked for help and you brushed them off saying that the Senate was more important." Her husband replied- it wasn't the first time that they'd had this discussion, but that doesn't mean they'd had it often. The last time they had spoken like this had been around the time of Anakin's birth, Leia worrying over if her children would be safe from the Dark Side during that time of their lives.

"But, still..." Leia mused, sleepily, "...People died... because of the Vong... and they're still getting over that..."

It had been, in fact, almost eight years since the death that Han's mind immediately reverted to. He shuddered, slightly, but didn't say anything.

"It's been a while... I mean... We've hardly seen them since the war ended... Even if they are growing up... Detachment like this just makes me worry... a lot..." Leia muttered.

Han squeezed her shoulder.

"They'll be fine. You know me- anyone gives MY kids shit is asking for it."

It was a thought that was both reassuring and worrying enough that Leia didn't want to linger on it.

"Let's talk about something else." She said, firmly, even if it was muffled against her arm. Han pulled a face, then amended.

"Alright... how's the search for a willing donation to the repairs going?" He finally asked. Leia shrugged a little.

"Badly. The weapons that the Yuuzuhan Vong left behind keep causing more and more damage and every time we find a rampaging remnant of a ship or weapon and bring it under control, three more seem to pop up on the other side of the galaxy."

"What about the alliance with the richer worlds, like Hapes?" Her husband asked, remembering the supposed untold wealth of the sector. Leia flinched, though she didn't show it.

"They can only do so much- a lot of planets with rich economies aren't willing to donate anywhere near the amount repairs would cost, and Hapes in particular is having political problems of it's own, especially since Teneniel Djo died during the war..."

Han let out a rare sigh, lowering to be level with Leia's face, and whispering a few, hopefully encouraging words.

"I'm here for you- and whatever you do, I'll support you in it. You know that, right?"

Leia's eyes had closed, but she smiled.

* * *

It would be odd that the next day was a day of business, in many senses of the word. We shall follow _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te_, and perhaps, that will give the best understanding of the events that occurred. 

At the start of the day, the Countess left her residence with her steward on three measures of business- one, to find an appropriate banker; two, to find a suitable ship that would suit her needs in the case of an emergency express flight; three, to pay a call to the house of the Solos, as they were the parents of the respected Selle Jaina and Sieur Jacen, as well as family friends of her mediators.

Her first business was quickly found in the form of a male Gotal owner of a financing company in his family name. The Countess tilted her head, intrigued, as the Gotal came in through the door of the elaborately decorated office- it seemed to be more like a ballroom, with it's brilliant vault of the ceiling and the delicate swirl of metals in a pattern on the wall and in the chandelier, as the intent had obviously been to dazzle her from before the start of the business. The Gotal walked with a strange swagger, almost an arrogant strut, as the ornate robes of a financial owner swished around his ankles.

He remained standing, while the Countess did not rise to greet him.

"You would be _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te_, I presume?" He asked, with a disarming smile, which the Countess returned.

"Only if you would be the Sieur Raimindur Gastess, Baron of the Kaledio Station in the Parmic Sector, and Treasurer of the Society for Honorable Business?" She replied, only repeating the titles off of Gastess's business card. His lower eyelid twitched, but Gastess sat himself down, the file of papers prominently displayed on the table.

The Countess's eyes shifted slightly, and met a gaze with her steward, who understood what she meant to say, and closed his eyes.

"Now, then... I have the recommendations from the three other firms that you forwarded to me... Unfortunately, I must confess that their meanings are... somewhat obscure, and I was wondering if you could clarify a few minor details." Unlike other Gotals, he did not speak in a monotone, but rather in a mild tone- like a person who has the ability to feel emotions, but a little less than the ability to express them. For a Gotal, this would be unusual, but considering that Gastess had grown up on Coruscant, and thus, surrounded by other beings, it was only natural that he had picked up on some of the facial expressions and vocal inflections.

He either did not notice, or did not care, that the Countess's steward was, by all appearances, taking a dozing nap where he stood.

"Certainly." The Countess replied, but there was an edge of boredom to her voice, as though she knew what the question would be.

"It's this matter of the limits- your three accounts have this particular clause, which struck my interest, stating that there would be no upper limit to any of your credit accounts." Gastess explained, as though this should have been all the explanation the conversation needed.

"I know this, but am currently having difficulties in understanding what is so obscure..." The Countess replied, pressing her fingertips together. Gastess gave her a significant look, then frowned, as though cursing something.

"Well... to be frank, the use of the word 'unlimited'..." He repeated, and the Countess blinked in a manner which, had her steward been looking her way instead of having his eyes closed, would have sent him into a fit of snickers, as it resembled the expression that Ben Skywalker had worn on their first encounter so accurately, "...Whenever the word 'unlimited' appears in business contracts, it implies a great deal of uncertainty..."

"Uncertainty? It's for that precise reason that the word 'unlimited' is used there- I am uncertain of how great my need will be for a credit account with this firm. I wouldn't open an unlimited account if I knew how much I would need." The Countess interrupted. Gastess swallowed, a little, but continued to press.

"I don't mean to downplay your needs, Excellency, but the point is that with uncertainty there comes a great deal of risk..."

"Is there not also risk in the stocks and bonds? Isn't that precisely how profit is made in a game like this?"

"Well... conceding that a little risk is necessary in business... however, in terms of an account, allowing someone to establish an unlimited amount... suppose I was simply short of what you needed?" At the disapproving look the Countess gave him, Gastess continued with that same false smile, "I'm not saying this firm has insufficient funds- I could easily accommodate you with a million..."

"Beg pardon?" The Countess interrupted, again, holding her fingertips up to her ear.

"I said a million..." Gastess replied, but stopped at the look in the Countess's eyes, as though he'd just made a very grave statement, very similar to the look Jacen and Jaina Solo had learned to tread cautiously around when the Countess showed such an emotion.

"A mere million? If I needed a sum like that, I wouldn't have bothered to come and open an account- a vulgar trifle like that is pocket change, to the point that I have that precise amount on me at all times, for a moment's notice." The Countess demonstrated her point, pulling out from the inner pocket of her jacket a credit chip, with, indeed, a million credits on it, as though she spent it daily.

There are very few things in the galaxy which could put an expression of shock on a Gotal's face, even one who is accustomed to the emotions of mixed company, and the Countess had just succeeded in one of them.

Her point being made, the account was settled and a recommendation of credit was filled and signed, but Gastess had more questions.

"I have no intention of insulting you, or calling you a fraud, Excellency..." He began his short interrogation with, which made the Countess's steward's nostrils flare, slightly, as that sort of statement usually does mean an insult of some kind, "...But I must confess a curiosity to the kind of financing you must have, to be able to have four accounts across the galaxy, each with unlimited credit, there must be some sort of fortune that you have- since, after all, the idea behind recommendation accounts is that the sum will be paid back..."

"I understand you plainly enough." The Countess replied, and Gastess continued.

"My only real concern is what this fortune of yours is- I was under the impression that all fortunes of aristocrats and nobles were liquidated under the Galactic Empire, and, in any case, there would have been note of a fortune such as your family's escaping the Emperor's attention..."

"It is not my family's fortune, at least, not until recent generations- but it is old, that much is sure, and has accumulated interest over the years which has caused it to triple. And, need I remind you, I am a stranger in a strange land on this planet- it is entirely possible this Emperor of yours never was even aware of the planet where this fortune gathered." The Countess replied, with a scolding gesture.

Gastess looked uncomfortable at her reminder, then composed himself, before the Countess gave a question of her own.

"Sieur Gastess, I have a question for you... just in the ways of opinions... supposing that someone of my status would be in the market for a ship that can go beyond light speed- is there any dealer that you would suggest I go to?"

The Gotal looked up at her, incredulous, before remembering that his new client was not accustomed to the people of the Core Worlds, before informing her.

"No dealers, but if you want to know anything- anything at all- about ships, the expert would be at this address." He wrote it for her, and the Countess accepted, with a slight smirk as she read the name.

"Well, it would seem that no one is safe in this web that we weave..." The Countess mused to herself, as she left for her social call.

* * *

Leia, having just dealt with an irate faction of Senators who wanted to separate from the current Congress and join the Killiks, was not in much of a mood to be dealing with whimsical aristocrats, but let none of her displeasure show, diplomat that she was, even if there was no hiding her exhaustion- her normally dark hair was a lighter shade than usual, some hairs purely gray, and her eyes seemed sunken back into her head, her eyebrows furrowed over them, eyelids wrinkled as though she'd been out in bright sunlight all day and was just now retreating into cool shade which she need not squint through, while there were the faintest of lines under her eyes, almost like she would have had circles or shadows under her eyes, except her skin refused to be discolored like that.

It was obvious she hadn't slept well when she HAD slept last night, but, given the pride of the former Princess of Alderaan that she was, Leia was not about to let anyone see her look beaten- like a warrior who, even though they were bruised and bleeding, continued to march on towards the enemy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you- are you the _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te_ that my brother told me about?" Leia asked, extending a hand to shake. The Countess took it, rising from her seat, but frowned, slightly.

"I am- though, I must ask, who is your brother, so I may be certain I have made his acquaintance instead of someone else?" The Countess asked, with the slightest expression of concern. Leia smiled, attempting to not be harsh, as Luke had warned her that this woman was a foreigner, and that he'd not told her of their relation.

"The Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker- he is my twin." Leia replied, sitting and signaling for her guest to be seated as well.

Leia was not watching the Countess's steward, but if she had been she would have noticed the slight change of expression on his face- a microscopic widening of his eyes, and a brief parting of his lips, as though he wanted to say something to that extent- before it fell back into the usual expression of stoicism. Instead, Leia saw the smile that lit up the Countess's face.

"Oh, so then, you would be the mother of the Selle Jaina and her brother Jacen, whom I met on Ord Mantell?" The Countess asked, looking delighted. Leia raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"It seems that way, even if I wasn't informed of it from those sources..." She replied and, while the Countess tilted her head in curiosity, she said nothing.

"I invited them and their cousin- apparently, your nephew- Ben Skywalker to several events and meals, as they were having difficulties due to the impromptu visit leaving them without necessary reservations, but they never told me I was sharing bread and salt with the children of Coruscant's guardian angel." The Countess mused, smiling. Leia chuckled, lightly, at the flattery.

"I wouldn't know about that- if the current crisis continues, I may have to play the role of destructive monster to the government, the way factions are voting for a dissolution of the current congress." Leia shook her head, discontented, which only seemed to appeal to the Countess.

"Oh- have I come calling at an unappealing time? I wouldn't mean to cause you interruption, if there are other tasks that you need attend to..." The Countess rose, as though to illustrate her point, but Leia waved her hand, to motion her back to her seat.

"No... it's alright. I don't have any appointments today, and things are becoming so tense that to be completely unoccupied wouldn't be right- part of my job is to be sure new citizens are settled." She reassured her guest, settling into a more businesslike posture, but the Countess sat, looking concerned.

"Could I offer any assistance?" She asked, and when Leia's face slipped, for even the briefest of seconds, to reveal her surprise, she explained, "Just as you would be uncomfortable to have nothing to do at a time like this, I feel the utmost of my duties would be to assist the government on any planet that I'm living on, currently. Please, tell me how I could be of service, Senator."

Leia sighed, and lifted a hand to massage her temple, the worries coming in and disrupting her collected thoughts. The Countess's face was that of pure innocent eagerness to help, like a child who knows when her mother is ill and wants to care for her, before Leia gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sad to say that it's mostly a financial matter... and, while I don't mean to undermine your offer- we need all the help we can get- I don't want to impose on you, especially if you wouldn't be able to keep up for some reason or another and it would cause you troubles. The size of the sum alone is something whole worlds wouldn't donate." Leia explained, feeling uncomfortable at discussing politics and uneasy by the look that the Countess was giving her.

"Really? If it's something that must be dealt with in pieces, I might have some contacts on other planets who would respond in if I rallied them, armed with knowledge of what the sum was..." She insisted, leaning in with an intense expression. Leia blinked, then settled back, contemplating the matter, before she finally leaned forward to give the response.

"It's not as simple as that- part of the problem is that half the Senate doesn't even want to pitch in to the repairs, because there are several factions in the Senate that are just as xenophobic and anti-droid as the Vong were, as well as wanting to restructure our government system completely... I don't want you to be alienated just as you're being integrated into Coruscanti society." She said, in a voice that wasn't a whisper, nor conspiratorial, but would have sounded like that to anyone listening in who didn't understand the language. The Countess just smiled.

"If my actions stir up unwanted feelings, they shall have trouble with me, not I with them." The Countess replied. Leia took a deep breath, and then told the Countess the information she needed.

"An estimated sum to repair damages caused by the war and to prevent further damages by the remnants would come to 1,610 trillion standard credits, provided that everything could be dealt with with no future damage." Leia explained, quietly, and at the expression on the Countess's face, she continued, "Like I've said, this is something that has the Senate divided... most of them don't want to raise the money in the first place... and most planets with wealthy aristocrats or valuable resources simply aren't up to such a large task- or, in the cases which might be, they are in political situations that make foreign relations less relevant."

The Countess, however, had her hand pressed against her mouth, as though in deep thought.

"However, you asked to make this call for a social visit- I'm sure you don't want to spend your time here listening to a Senator bemoan her troubles with the Senate." Leia tried to get off the topic, as it was making her uncomfortable the way the Countess's eyes were fixed on her, though she couldn't quite realize why.

"No, Senator, I'm beyond interested- in fact, I'm quite thoroughly engrossed. As a new citizen, do you not agree that it is my responsibility to have a thorough knowledge of what kind of political atmosphere I'm entering into, and that my civic duty lies in doing my part to see that justice prevails?" The Countess replied, those haunting eyes fixed on Leia's face, as though penetrating her skin and seeing into her mind.

Leia shook herself and focused on her words.

"I'm glad to hear you share that sentiment- too many people today are too far removed from the political functions that govern the most important decisions of today..." Leia said, with a smile, almost distantly, one which the Countess seemed to share.

"Unlike back in the good old days?" She asked, with a sardonic smile, as though she was both joking and being seriously sarcastic and mocking at the same time. Leia frowned, looking slightly out the window.

"...I wouldn't say that. There's no such thing as the good old days- not when they never happened." Leia mused, almost talking to herself, except she wasn't. The Countess smiled, then shrugged, and, as she closed her eyes, Leia realized what had been so unnerving about them- the Countess hardly ever blinked.

"You can never blame a generation for living in their own time- even if a generation always improves on the past, they will always make their own unique mistakes." Her voice was soft, as though gently reminding someone of a simple fact they had overlooked. Leia smiled back, feeling, suddenly, a little less begrudging to the Countess, given that she very rarely met somebody so excruciatingly patient.

"If that is how you insist on it..." Leia finally conceded, "Then, I've told you what the political atmosphere will be like for your household- hopefully, another war can be avoided, but there is going to be a great deal of tension, however you see it."

"Tension is inevitable- I've learned to welcome it instead of run away, over the years." The Countess explained, before she gestured to her steward, who handed her a metal case with carrying straps. Leia raised an eyebrow, but kept herself composed as the Countess opened it and turned it to face her- inside, there lay thousands of credit chips, each bearing the limit of a billion credits.

Leia stared for a moment, outwardly impassive, before she smiled at the Countess.

"I appreciate the offer, but, with how the system works, simply handing over the sum is not acceptable for the Senate..." She said, as politely as she could, but the Countess's smile didn't fade.

"Suppose if a Senator were the one who held all the money and they were the ones to donate it?" The Countess asked. Leia frowned, slightly.

"That would be acceptable, but I can't imagine any Senator with this much in their revenue to be able to spend it all..." Leia met the Countess gaze, then the thought occurred to her, "Unless YOU know of someone..."

"I certainly do, as do you- I'm looking at her right now." The Countess replied, smiling. Leia didn't flinch, but returned the calm gaze.

"Again, I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't feel comfortable simply accepting a gift of money without giving something in return." Leia said, maintaining her composure in a situation where men in her same position would have fallen to the floor, or thrown open the case, drooling and frantically counting the money.

The Countess seemed pleased with her reaction, and nodded, complacently.

"I can appreciate that. Then, shall we say I made a purchase from you and offered this particular sum- which would be more than enough to cover the amount the Senate needed and would do extra good on the side- in return for something valuable that is in your possession."

Leia's inward demeanor changed, even if her face didn't.

"Given that the purchase would be within reason, I would gladly agree. I just can't think of what you could be imagining- If you came expecting that I might have fabulous jewels or artifacts of Alderaan's royalty, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I swore those luxuries off long before I even became a Senator for Alderaan. And if you were planning on purchasing, perhaps, the house that my husband and I live in, it's not even worth a fraction of the sum you're offering." Leia said, doing her best to remain gracious while, on the inside, she was trusting the woman before her less and less.

The Countess laughed, a light and musical intonation of her voice, which made shivers go up Leia's neck.

"Oh, no, Senator- please, rest assured that this gift has no intention of driving you to ruin." She replied, before continuing, "No... I was thinking of something which I truly do lack- a ship. Preferably, the fastest the galaxy has to offer. I was under the supposition that you were married to Captain Han Solo, the pilot of the _Millennium Falcon_- I would be interested in knowing if that would be a worthy trade of the price I am offering." The Countess finally explained, taking Leia quite off-guard.

'I'll bet you would be...' A cynical, suspicious voice in the back of Leia's head said. She ignored it, seriously thinking over the offer, but not without doubts.

On one hand, a solution to the budget crisis was being, literally, handed her, with extra on the side, which, as the Countess had said, might be put to another use- funding for the department of education, relief missions to refugees, investment in businesses to produce better jobs, welfare programs, the list was endless...

However... the _Falcon..._ That was something which held history, and importance, beyond what any kind of money could buy... It had been the ship to save the Alliance more times than they could count in the war against the Empire... it had been the ship to save their necks at Bakura, Kuat, Dathomir, the Black Fleet Crisis, and so many countless times during the war...

And... Han...

Since Chewbacca had died, the _Falcon_ had become so important to him, almost as though he was afraid the memories of his honor brother would vanish with the ship if anything happened to it. And, adding to the fact that Leia was now in the position of the co-pilot...

But... a Senator must never allow her personal emotions to interfere with politics- this was not supposed to be an emotional decision, it was political, economical, and practical...

Was it?

"That's a difficult decision to make... the _Millennium Falcon_ is also part of the naval fleet and an important mark in history- many citizens see it as something of a symbol of the might of the old Alliance, as well as progress for the Republic..." Leia explained, but the Countess seemed to find this made the bargaining easier.

"If you are worried for your fleet, I would be more than willing to continue it's service- there are several in my household who are excellent pilots, if the need ever came of them- and I would not dream of taking the source of pride and confidence away from the people of this Alliance. But, on a diplomatic side, might it be a good gesture of disarmament to the factions that support pacifism. And, for enemy systems, it would be a sign that you do not wish for another war to break out, nor wish to attack them, and thus, negotiations will be significantly more bearable." The Countess suggested, with a slight shrug. Leia frowned a little at her, but, thinking about it, it was that much better...

But still... Han...

"_I'm here for you- and whatever you do, I'll support you in it. You know that, right?"_

Hadn't Han said that? Wouldn't this mean...?

"Very well." Leia agreed.

* * *

"You SOLD the _Falcon_?" Han Solo demanded when he went to check on the ship and found it missing. Leia had the good grace to look guilty at the fact that her husband was upset, but stood firm on her ground.

"Han, you told me that you would support me in what I did, and this was a good solution to the current crisis, and more- there's plenty leftover after the donation sum, so if you wanted, you could get a new ship and make the same adjustments that you did to the _Falcon._" She argued. Han's face went white, then red, then purple.

"It's not about the SHIP- Leia, the _Falcon_ is like a part of the FAMILY!" He insisted, and Leia scowled.

"Stop acting childish." She scolded, sharply, "The _Millennium Falcon_ was a great ship, and you were a great pilot- we couldn't have brought down the Empire without you, or that ship- and I know you've been pilot for years, and that the _Falcon_ was very important to you... I understand, and I appreciate that..." Leia's tone changed to somewhat soothing, before she sharpened again, "But... You're causing too much fuss over it..."

"You just don't want to be the co-pilot anymore!" Han accused, and Leia's patience snapped.

"You're still upset over Chewbacca- that's what it's about, not the fact that the _Millennium Falcon_ is now the property of someone else: You're upset that the ship which he co-piloted with you is gone." Leia accused, knowing full well this was still a sore spot and not caring because she was so angry with her husband, "Let it go!"

Han opened his mouth to shout and one of his hands raised, but Leia grabbed his wrist in midair.

"If you even THINK about it, I will walk out the doors and make your life miserable, I swear to it." She whispered.

Han's eyes met with Leia's, and she met his, and their staring match continued in furious silence for several long minutes, before a knock on the door interrupted them. Leia took a deep breath in and calmed, and Han, though he did not break his gaze, lowered his hand, his teeth grinding, before Leia answered the knock.

Standing at their door was a man in an elegant livery coat, with a card in his hand. He bowed deeply, and handed the card to Leia, who noticed the embellished initials CMC on the back.

"I come with a message from my mistress- _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te_- regarding the freighter, the _Millennium Falcon_." Han tensed at these words, but Leia didn't react, waiting for the man to continue, "Milady has wished to return it, without any detriment to you, for reasons that she has explained in her message. I have the _Falcon_ awaiting my piloting skills, and I need your permission to return it to it's docking port."

Han's jaw dropped, and Leia smiled, thanking the man, who left quickly, and, in a short while, returned with the _Falcon_, guiding it smoothly into it's port, where Han Solo met him with a sincere handshake and exuberant welcoming back for his ship, which, upon inspection, had gone through a complete refurnishing- replacement of pipes with holes in them, replating of surfaces that had been scratched or dented, the control panel replaced with control sticks, switches, and buttons which had a strange ability to mold into the shape of the user's hands so they fit against Han's fingers like a glove, and the seats for the pilot, co-pilot, and passengers reupholstered with the same material that had made the pilot's grip comfortable.

Han inspected his ship twice, each time finding new surprises that he hadn't found before, with Leia helping him, their argument forgotten.

"Han... the cargo bay has some strange new fixtures- these pipes have hidden doors, like they're meant to be places to hide something... there are even light fixtures inside them..." Leia reported, running a hand around the large tubes, which were big enough she could have fit inside one with room to spare. She heard Han make a strange noise, like his tongue clicking against his teeth, through the headphone set they were using to communicate.

"There's a bunch of new knobs and do-hickeys on the control panel, too... An extra shield generator, a cloaking device, a port for an R2 unit to inter phase with the computer, a screen for the computer to give feedback to the pilot with a translator from binary to Basic, Correllian, and a few other languages I don't recognize..." Han was silent for a moment, on the other end, then spoke again, "Leia, I'm going to whistle- time me."

"Why?"

"Hang on a sec..." A low pitched whistling noise came through the headset, for a minute, before Han spoke again, "Now... whistle back, at the same pitch, for the same amount of time." Leia frowned, but did as her husband asked, and then heard him grumble a little.

"Han, what is it?" Leia asked, worriedly pressing the right ear headphone closer to her ear.

"These headphones... their connection is clearer. There's no static, no breaking up, nothing- it sounds almost like you're standing right next to me..." Han mused, and Leia understood.

"I thought they sounded a little too clear..." She agreed, before Han called her back into the cockpit.

Leia arrived back in the hull, settling down into one of the chairs, which seemed to melt to accommodate her frame.

"Do you have that note this Countess woman sent with this?" Han asked, with a heavy crease in his brow as he frowned. Leia pulled it out of the case she'd been keeping it in, and read it.

"She wrote on the back 'I wish to extend my apologies to Captain Solo, as it came to my attention that he was greatly upset by my purchase of his ship. It would seem that some things in this world are too valuable, even to be replaced by wealth. I beg Captain Solo to take back his ship with the extension of new additions in hopes they will be enough to appease the good captain, as well as prove useful in future situations, as I do not wish to be the cause of a family's distress upon my first interaction with them. As for the Senator Leia, I would be eternally grateful if she would please excuse my less than sociable manner in returning this ship, as I am too ashamed to show myself before you after such a grievous misunderstanding.' And then, as a second part of the note, she included a folded up blueprint of the _Falcon_, showing where the new functions were, and what they did."

Leia handed Han the piece of folded paper, which he undid, carefully, but not without impatience, until he saw the whole layout of the new ship, not feeling in the least bit surprised when he saw several new adjustments that they had not found, even on their third pass through the ship.

Finally, Han made a noise that sounded between amusement and curiosity. He looked out the window, then frowned, seeing the Countess's servant still standing outside in the docking bay, patiently waiting against the wall. With a shrug, Han pushed himself up, away from the console and walked out of the _Falcon_, towards the man, whom stood straighter.

"'Scuse me if I sound rude, but what's the big idea, hanging around like you are?" Han demanded, with a slight scowl. The Countess's servant didn't take offense at the tone.

"I'm sorry, I should have made myself clear when I first came." He apologized, bowing, "But Milady asked me to remain behind until I could be sure the return was to your liking, and if it wasn't to return immediately and inform her so that she might correct the problem."

Han raised his eyebrows, before he grinned.

"In that case, tell her Excellency that I'll graciously accept her most thoughtful gift, only on the condition that she didn't use repair droids to make all the adjustments, and that she won't be offended if I make a few adjustments of my own, if there comes need of it." He replied, doing his best to mimic the dialect of Basic that all of the Countess's employ seemed to use. Her servant smiled, bowed again, and took off quickly.

It was with a little more wonder, however, as Han and Leia resumed a much more pleasant evening that Han could not take his mind off of how the Countess could have made such radical changes, and how, in the end, she could possibly have been able to give back the ship without asking for anything in return.

Leia, on the other hand, was suspicious of the exact same matter. As soon as supper finished, she reached into her resources as a Senator to find some trace of who this Countess was, something which her husband was neither ignorant of, nor entirely interested in.

* * *

"Milady, please don't make me do the budget again." The Countess's steward pleaded as the Countess over viewed the events of the day, before she finally turned to him, with a slight smile. Gornash was kneeling on one knee before his employer, who was seated in the library, again.

"Gornash, I am about to ask you a few questions- they will put the otherwise torturous hassles of today into a proper perspective to be examined.

"First, do you remember the species of the banker who we saw today?"

"Yes, Milady- he was a Gotal."

"Very good, and what is the special ability of Gotals that makes them such rare finds on Coruscant?"

"Their headcones, Milady- these allow them to detect electromagnetic fields given off by living creatures, especially allowing them sensitivity to emotions, and as such, a world such as Coruscant that is abundant with technology and machinery, this would normally cause a Gotal intense disorientation and other problems."

"Now, with that in mind, did the banker today seem disoriented or otherwise unhappy, cranky, or confused, even in the slightest?"

"No, Milady."

"And, when I signaled to you to focus your emotions so that they would change rapidly over the course of our visit, did you?"

"Yes, Milady."

"And did our banker seem to be disoriented or distracted by that?"

"No, Milady."

"Therefore, we can only conclude the only reason he exists on Coruscant is because his headcones are defective. Now, remaining on this subject, what was the name of our banker?"

"Raimindur Gastess, Milady."

"Is the name 'Gastess' familiar to you?"

Gornash was silent, unsure for a moment, before he nodded.

"There was a Gotal by the name of Salim Gastess- he was a financier during the Imperial era was very successful at it, possibly because his headcones were nonfunctional."

"So, who do you suppose Sieur Raimindur Gastess was, then?"

"...His son, perhaps, Milady?"

"Precisely. Now, tell me some other observations you made."

"...Well... he was extravagant... excessive... too friendly for a businessman... I hate to say it, at the fear of using the word incorrectly, but I'd almost say simpering... perhaps even cowardly..."

The Countess smiled.

"Those are the correct words for him- Sieur Gastess has inherited his father's finance incorporation, meaning he has grown up rich and at his ease, but he lacks his father's intelligence and aptitude for business."

"In short, he's an idiot."

"My thought, exactly. For this reason, he is arrogant, greedy, and lazy when he's in a situation that he believes he has control over, but when he is taken advantage of and backed into a corner, he becomes as you said, cowardly and simpering, trying to bargain his way out and earn back some of his control."

"I see, Milady..." Though, while Gornash understood what she was saying, he did not understand what she was thinking.

"Now that we know this, let's overview what we learned during the visit with Princess Leia."

"She told us of the political atmosphere of the current society, so we know what to expect from that end..."

"Not of the politics, but of the Princess and Captain Solo, themselves- for one, Princess Leia told us somewhat of her personal opinions on political matters, which we will examine later. But, first, what did we discover about the _Millennium Falcon_, material wise?"

"It was painted black, Milady."

"And why was that?"

"...It was most likely for camouflage, Milady."

"Is there another reason, perhaps?"

"...Possibly also to represent mourning."

"Very good- now, given what that tells us, who do you suppose Captain Solo would mourn the loss of so deeply?"

"...His son, Anakin, perhaps?"

"But why would he honor his son by painting the _Falcon_? Think closer to home- someone else who had a bond with Captain Solo who shared that ship?"

"Chewbacca, then- he was the co-pilot and Captain Solo's honor brother..."

"That's more like it. Now, when I had the ship brought here, before the repairs and adjustments began, what did I first call for?"

"You called Ouduar."

"Why?"

"You wanted him to sense the past emotions and events that the ship carried."

"And what did he tell you, when you spoke to him in his dream?"

"There was sorrow, and suffering, but there was also a sense of determination and focus."

"What does that tell us about Captain Solo?"

"...That the loss of the wars has strengthened his reslove, Milady?"

"Very good- what does this tell you about the Captain, as a person?"

"...If I had to say, I would think he is a typical Correllian, except his blood is a more refined rocket fuel and his nerves are closer to iron than steel."

"I couldn't have said it better, myself. With that in mind, why do you suppose I deliberately began to prepare to return the ship to it's rightful owner?"

"...Because... you knew that the sale of the Falcon would be a cause for argument between the Princess and her husband."

"With that in mind, I literally held the key to their domestic peace. Why do you suppose I went to such lengths to achieve this end?"

"Because, by the return, you would make, if nothing else, an ally of both the Princess and the Captain in one stroke."

"Correct. Now, tell me something else personal that Princess Leia told us."

Gornash was quiet, then hung his head.

"She is one of a pair of twins..." He replied, quietly. The Countess nodded, and said nothing.

"She does not live with her twin... even given the circumstances... how...?"

"In societies like this, it is widely accepted that siblings separate when they enter adulthood. Even identical twins separate and live their lives without each other. However, the case of these two is far different- they were separated at birth, supposedly for their own protection, and not even told of their own twin."

At this information, Gornash's expression went from pained to horrified to furious, before he stood up, glaring.

"Then why do you not try to fix THAT?" He demanded, before the Countess's eyes flashed, and for a woman of the Countess's stature and supposed physical weakness, it was indeed frightening to see that inexplicable emotion that seemed to animate her face that, otherwise, might have been made of fine porcelain, pressed ivory, or shaped wax. Gornash's knee dropped again, and his head bowed, an unspoken whisper of apology sweeping the room with all possible sincerity.

"Gornash, you yourself Saw what would have happened if they had been left together- tell me, and give me the assurance your mind is still suitable for you to remain on my staff."

"The Emperor would have found them, Milady."

"Yes, and then?"

"And then, however young they might have been, they would have destroyed him."

"Yes, and then?"

"And then, when their father came to reclaim them as his children, they would have destroyed him, too."

"Yes, and then?" And when Gornash's voice choked and he did not answer as promptly as his employer would have liked, she repeated, "And then?"

"And then... they would have taken the Emperor's throne... and ruled over the galaxy as the Twin Sith..."

"Precisely. That, Gornash, is why you, yourself, told me that this was the time we must interfere in."

Gornash remained bowed, but his expression was something to behold, as his eyes closed, as though trying to fight back some invisible horror with his eyes.

"But... for a pair of twins to be forced apart... it seems so cruel..." He protested, and glanced up to see the Countess resting her fingertips on her knee, a signal that she wished for him to come forward, which he did, shaking from head to toe, before the Countess's hands guided his head to rest on her lap.

"It is cruel, indeed. Perhaps if they had at least been told of the existence of their twin, maybe the cruelty could have been lessened, but what is, is. Now, we must focus on the aim for the present." The Countess agreed, before her voice softened even further, "I understand- you miss him a great deal, don't you?"

Gornash nodded, then looked up.

"It's sometimes too much to bear..." He whispered, while the Countess calmly soothed him, before she continued.

"Would you prevent anything like your fate from happening to someone else?" She asked, and when Gornash nodded, she lifted one of his hands to her lips, "Then trust me- and it will be prevented." But before she could kiss it, Gornash pulled his hand away and offered his forehead, which the Countess accepted, before the door opened and Jacci entered the room, somehow knowing it was an appropriate time to interrupt.

A/N: O-kay... if you look up Gornash and Salim Gastess, you will find they are not, actually, OCs, but, instead, characters that I found in the EU- as are many of the Countess's household (excluding Haid and Jacci- even Hiken, to some extent, is a character that someone else thought of) But don't expect to find anything on their pasts which will happen in this story, because a lot of the characters I use will be characters who were introduced, given a role, a slight personality, but no background or history whatsoever, so I decided to play around with it.

If you have any suggestions on how to improve the fic- I'm not very accustomed to writing the main cannon character's (Luke, Leia, and Han) so I need all the help I can get, trying to keep them in character. If someone wants to beta-read, that be even better (And you'd get cookies, too!)


	7. Chapter 6

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Before we get the ball rolling, I don't own any of the characters, or their copyrights. A majority of these characters, places, and events will probably be property of Tim Zahn (the jerk...) And I really have no clue who created the other events, places, and characters- there are too many authors in the EU to keep track of.

I also would like to remind everyone that there will be a LOT of retconning of the original materials. Or, perhaps, it's not retconning at all, but more of looking at what could have been VERY possible and was just ignored by the original authors. And note, don't expect to find me published in the Star Wars section, someday- I write ideas that are 'inappropriate' for the Star Wars universe. From here on, there will be themes of incest, homoeroticism, murder, gore, rape, radicals, politics, feminism, and a lot of other stuff which is either disturbing or just not something that LucasArts would approve of. (Their loss)

Chapter 6:

Ben was panting heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead, and finally sat down while Jacen finally declared it was time for a water break. Ben pulled the fighting tape from his hands and gratefully accepted the bottle of water his cousin handed to him, listening as Jacen gave him an examination of his abilities.

"Thus far, your reflexes and basic techniques are good enough, what you need to work on is your control of the Force and physical abilities." Jacen explained and, while Ben did his best to understand, he couldn't quite put an image to the words he was using.

"...Mmm... I'm sorry Jacen, but I don't understand..." Ben finally said, squinting a little, "I know what you mean by physical abilities... but how do you control the Force?" Jacen paused, then explained a little further.

"Maybe control isn't the best word for me to use... Um... really, what you're doing is talking to the Force, and if you say the right things and do it the right way, the Force will listen to you and obey your commands. To control it, you have to control yourself- like, you know your ability to feel other people's feelings?"

Ben cringed away and nodded, glumly.

"You mean THAT'S the Force?" He asked, miserably.

"Somewhat- it's the Force responding to your wish to understand other people's feelings. To have control over it, though, you need to shut out things that you don't want to feel- think about it like a water spigot. Right now, you've got the faucet turned on at full blast, so every person's emotions just come flooding in, and you don't have a way to stop it- so, what you did was cut yourself off from the Force, like plugging a stopper in the pipes so that water can't even come to the spigot."

"Except there's a leak in the stopper, and that's why I still feel these things?" Ben asked, eyes lighting and when Jacen grinned, Ben smiled, too.

"Pretty much. Now, most people, when they turn on their water faucet and water comes out full blast, they turn the water off completely. That's what you've got to learn to do- otherwise, just putting a stopper in it isn't going to help. Now, to start on how to do that, try focus on everything that you feel coming in, imagine that there's a hole that it's all coming through, and visualize it closing up, disappearing, being filled..." Jacen instructed.

Ben closed his eyes, took a breath in, and did as he was told.

Imagining the hole that everything was coming through was easy enough- the way his cousin's emotions seemed to be poring into him made Ben feel like he had a hole in his head, and every drop of Jacen's exhaustion, delight, and impatience was being poured into him by the liter, watering down his own emotions and disorienting his brain.

Imagining that hole sealing up was another matter altogether- If nothing else, as Ben tried to imagine it shrinking, the hole seemed to get bigger, and Ben felt himself holding his breath, trying to at least block out the pounding in his ears that was making it hard to focus on the visualization of a shrinking stream of water coming from a pipe. He just couldn't stop imagining the terrifying prospect that, if he failed, the barrier that kept him separated from other people would shatter and he'd meld with all the people whose emotions he felt.

Ben let out the breath he was holding, a headache pounding in his temples as things seemed to settle back to how they were, the gap in his mind shrinking back to it's usual size, which was a relief compared to how Ben had just felt.

"...It's... not..." Ben panted, cringing as his head throbbed, but Jacen patted him on the back.

"It's okay, it's been a lot for one day. Let's take a break- how does lunch sound?" Jacen said, with a grin, but it suddenly inspired a strike of worry in Ben, rather than relief.

"What time is it?" He asked, shooting to his feet. Jacen blinked, then checked his chrono with a frown.

"About twelve hundred hours, why?" He replied, and Ben panicked, running from the training arena, before Jacen grabbed his arm, dragging him back.

"I'm gonna be late, Jacen! I've got an appointment with the Countess at thirteen hundred!" Ben insisted, pulling against his cousin's grip in vain. Jacen scowled, looking both displeased and angry at Ben's reaction.

"Why the Krithin hells do you need to go see her?"

"She asked me to come calling every week at this time, and I promised that I would- I can't break a promise, Jacen."

"Tell her that you're busy with your training- if she's reasonable, she'll let you off just one afternoon for something like that."

"But that would be a lie, Jacen- besides, it would be rude." Ben insisted, stubbornly. Jacen's nostrils flared, slightly, and Ben could tell his surrogate brother was irritated that he was being argued against, before it subsided just a little.

"Oh..." Jacen's face suddenly split into a knowing grin, "YOOU want to see that cute sister of the Countess's, huh?"

Ben's neck disappeared into his shoulders as his cheeks colored.

"...Maybe..." He finally relented, evasively. Jacen ruffled Ben's hair, fondly.

"Okay... tell ya what- I'll help you get ready."

"Really? That'd be great- thanks, Jacen!" Ben asked, eyes lighting up, delighted at his cousin's offer, allowing Jacen to follow him up to his bedroom so he could wash and change after sweating so much, while Jacen called little tips through the wall of the fresher.

"Try parting your hair down the middle instead of letting your bangs hang over your forehead- girls think it's cute. And a blue shirt will match your eyes better- they love little details like that." Jacen suggested, and when all was said and done, Ben frowned at his cousin, curious.

"How do you know all this stuff about girls, Jacen?" He asked, not bringing up the fact that Jacen had a sister- a twin, no less- while he was an only child, but Jacen just grinned.

"Trust me- I've been trying to get on Tenel Ka's good side for eleven years, and you don't chase a girl that long without picking up a few cues. She'll be putty in your hands- mark my words." Jacen said, and Ben smiled back, intending to head out towards the Countess's residence in the Works by a hover taxi, except his mother caught him.

"Where do you think YOU'RE going?" She demanded, and Ben frowned, reminding her of the time and date.

"I've got to see the Countess." He said, feeling more than a little resentful, especially after his mother had said it would be alright by her for this arrangement, not more than two weeks ago.

"Washed behind your neck and ears?" His mother pressed.

"Yes..." Ben sighed, knowing that an argument would make him even more late.

"Polished your shoes?"

"Yes..."

"At least three hidden blaster pisols?"

"NO- Mom, I'm going to be a guest! Why don't you just wrap a bomb up in a box with a ribbon and send me over to give it to her as a present?" Ben protested, his mother's annoyance seeping into him- but his mother seemed to recognize this, and it quickly faded until Ben was aware that all the annoyance he felt was very much his own.

"If you don't have something to protect you, you're not going!" His mother argued, and Ben held his breath, glaring at his mother with a look that could shrivel a cactus, before Jacen interrupted.

"I'll go with him- an advance guard should be enough protection through the Works, and given how the Countess was so determined to keep him from being killed by bandits on Ord Mantell, I doubt she would let someone in her household harm him." Jacen offered, and while Ben could feel how aggravated his mother was- her distrust being more than apparent- it was enough to convince her.

"Thanks, Jacen- it'll be even better with you there." Ben said to Jacen, who also volunteered to get them over to the house in his hover car. Upon arrival, however, Jacen parked on a platform that was empty and lead to a door that was well above ground level, but they were not greeted by the Countess. Instead, the escort was the little girl, Suna, whom did not seem in any disposition to be a courteous hostess.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice not at all like that of a little girl- she couldn't have been any older than Ben- but it was low, growl-like, almost grating to the ears. Ben gulped, nervously, and waved.

"Um... I'm Ben Skywalker... the Countess wanted to see me..."

"Not you. The other one." Suna said, quietly. She didn't even sound that annoyed, but something about the way she spoke just below the real volume for hearing alerted Ben that they were somehow in trouble.

That, and he felt this sense coming from her... almost like a predator prowling.

"This is my cousin... Jacen... he came with me... and I'm sure the Countess won't mind..."

"You aren't welcome." Suna interrupted. Her voice was only slightly louder, but Ben felt her emotions stir again- she wasn't annoyed... quite the opposite, she was pleased that Jacen was here, even though, as far as he could tell, she had been instructed to keep him out.

"Look, I understand that it's unexpected, but I'm not gonna be that much trou-" Jacen was cut off by Suna, who wasn't glaring anymore... she was just staring at him with the single eye that wasn't hidden by her hair.

"Shut up." She said. It wasn't quite an order- it was more like she was just saying the words without any real intonation. Her voice had gone monotone, and her emotions were settled- if Ben didn't know any better, he could have almost sworn the girl before him simply lacked the ability to have emotions.

"Hey, I don't know what you were told to do, but just telling someone to shut up- that's rude." Jacen snapped, and Ben could feel his temper growing thin, but something made him both want to tell Jacen to, indeed, shut up and keep himself out of trouble, but was warning him not to talk or make any sudden moves right now.

"I'll kill you."

Ben shuddered, and recognized the emotion that was pouring off of her in waves- bloodlust. She... she WANTED Jacen to stay there... she was happy that Jacen was staying, even when he wasn't wanted... but not happy at the same time... it was almost as though there was a kind of raw, stinging ache inside her that demanded a sacrifice of blood, but the ache was almost that of a vacuum...

Ben could feel it- this overwhelming sensation flooded him, as though Suna had been carrying a jug so full of water that she couldn't carry it all and was pouring some into him to lighten her load. It was a tearing sensation- a battle between the two causes for this thirst for a kill... One, a laughing, happy lightheartedness, as though it were just a game that she was playing for her amusement, and the other a rusty turning of gears... the sensation of a hollow, an emptiness, all existence depending on the savoring of this one kill.

She was... happy... and she was also...

...Bored?

"...Jacen... don't talk... she means it..." Ben whispered, shaking uncontrollably, as that one, unblinking eye of Suna's fixed on his face- it wasn't an unusual color, but it was an abnormal shade, a pale blue, like the sky on a day which was cloudy enough to cover the sun and sky completely, but just enough to let the smallest rays of blue penetrate the white haze. And, Ben finally saw... under her eye was a stripe of black, covering her whole lower eyelid, with lines running down her cheek as though she were crying... except it was quite obvious she wasn't...

Jacen made a noise of disgust behind him.

"She's bluffing, Ben- someone of her age doesn't have the experience necessary. Now, you, little miss..." Jacen snapped, stepping forward, but Suna only seemed to realize that he was not doing as she had told him to.

"Die." She hissed. Beneath Jacen's feet, a hole appeared, sending one of Jacen's legs clear through it as the metal seemed to melt and swallow him up to his knee, sending Jacen off balance with a cry of surprise.

Ben, on the other hand, screamed- the emotions from Suna were nothing compared to what he could feel boiling inside his cousin at that moment, like the molten core of a volcano, whose side had just burst and the magma was pouring out the side in a river of lava. Ben felt choked, like that same lava was coming through the previously mentioned tap and filling his mouth and throat, burning him and sending shocks of an acidic pain through him.

"JACEN, STOP, PLEASE!" Ben could hear someone screaming, but he wasn't sure who it was- it didn't sound like his voice, but there was no one else there... the scream was echoing in a vacuum of white noise as colors exploded on the black of his inner eyelids, and there was no reply to the pain that was utterly tearing him in two.

He was alone.

* * *

' ' Ben ? ' ' 

Ben felt something on his hand, moving around, and inspiring the sound of a voice in his mind, before he noticed the smell of some herb burning, and finally, tasted something in the back of his throat like metal. His eyes opened and he saw Jacci sitting over him, softly repeating his name over and over again on his palm.

"Sieur Ben, shall I send you home with a prescription of these pills when you leave today? They seem to be the only thing that calms you in a state like this..." Ben blinked again, then saw the Countess on her feet, watching him and her sister, curiously. Ben's eyes widened and he sat up, abruptly.

"C-Countess..." He stammered, but she shushed him- or perhaps it was a gesture to make him relax- but Ben slumped back, head hitting an armrest which made him aware that it was a couch he was on.

"I arrived to find that you'd fainted and Suna was staring down at you." The Countess explained, calmly taking a seat while Jacci looked between the two of them, and then left the room, after being sure Ben would be alright.

"What about Jacen?" Ben asked, which made the Countess raise her eyebrows.

"Sieur Jacen was there? I didn't see any indicator that he was ever here, though I did wonder why you were on one of the upper level ports..." The Countess noted, with a frown. Ben blinked, then went to explain.

"The reason why I was passed out was because Jacen was with me... Suna said something, and he got angry because of it... I..."

The Countess didn't say anything, but continued to watch him, curiously, before Ben hung his head and whispered.

"...I... felt what he was feeling... and I couldn't separate it from what I was feeling... then... Suna's emotions... it was just..."

"Too much?" The Countess finished, when Ben couldn't find the right word. Ben blinked at the Countess, whom he was startled to see standing over him with a small smile. Her words, however, seemed to have hit the mark with precision.

"...Yeah..." Ben finally agreed, and the Countess didn't say anything for a long while, before finally smiling.

"Thank you for telling me- I owe Suna an apology for the talking to I gave her, since I thought she was the one responsible for your condition..." And Ben looked up at this statement, frowning a little.

"...Countess..." He said, struggling to find the right words to describe what was going through his mind, while the Countess watched him as one does their pet when it behaves peculiarly.

"...About Suna..." Ben finally said, and the Countess's eyebrow raised, "...I... when she met Jacen and me..."

"'I', Sieur Ben- 'I'." The Countess interrupted, before letting him continue.

"...When Jacen and I met her at the door... she... she said that Jacen wasn't welcome..." Ben paused, and the Countess interpreted that to mean he was asking a 'why'.

"I asked to see you- and I would rather see you alone, while your cousin's presence, in most of our meetings thus far, seemed to have done nothing but lead to arguments. That's hardly conducive to an enjoyable, relaxing afternoon, don't you agree?" The Countess explained. Ben looked at her curiously, but managed a wan smile.

"...That wasn't my question... but I guess I was wondering about that, too..." Ben managed, at last, which caused the Countess to tilt her head, "...But... really... what was bothering me was... what Suna said... and what she felt... when Jacen argued with her, Suna said..." Ben stopped talking, not wanting to repeat the words- which, in all fairness, is understandable, as a person saying so blatantly that they'll kill another is very disturbing for a boy of eight.

"Suna said 'I'll kill you', didn't she?" The Countess finally finished, pulling something from her inner jacket pocket. Ben frowned, watching the peculiar object- it looked like a long, bulky version of a death stick, except when the Countess lit it and took a breath in, the smoke came out a bluish-green and smelled like the vapors of inhaled medicines.

"...She's done that before?" Ben asked, not sure if he was shocked that the Countess had guessed, or that she was so casual about it. The Countess shrugged, chewing on her smoking chunk.

"She's like that with everyone. She doesn't know any better." She replied. Ben blinked, then stared, the muscles on his face falling as though he were about to cry.

"...But... why... How could someone..."

Ben struggled to find the right words, but again, it was too difficult- and he didn't quite know which question he wanted to ask first: 'How could someone be so uncaring?' or 'Why did she feel like she did?'

"I cannot tell you."

It was the first time that Ben had heard anything remotely resembling a loss of an answer from the Countess- Ben stared at her, in surprise, but the Countess didn't meet his gaze, staring into space as she chewed on the end of her cigar.

"...To tell you of Suna's past... Would be to break a vow of confidence in her that she already has so little faith in. I will not be the one to return her to that state." The Countess said, quietly, a frown creasing her forehead, as though someone invisible and unheard had suggested that she would do exactly as she had just vowed not to do.

Ben gazed at the Countess for a long time without blinking, trying to focus- he'd despised his ability to empathize with other people, half because it forced him to somewhat isolate himself from other people or risk going insane, and half because he was treated differently, especially by his own family, or others that knew about it, but now, he found himself wishing that it was stronger. The Countess didn't flood into his senses the way everyone else did- just like with his father's abilities in the Force and Artoo's recordings, it was as though the Countess simply didn't exist in the world of senses. She had no emotions, or at least none that Ben could feel, and it frustrated him, scared him, and worried him all at once.

It was strange... to be used to feeling the emotions of others... and then to be suddenly stopped from feeling them... because one particular person might not have had any for all you could tell...

"...How old is Suna?" Ben finally asked, deciding that would be the best course of action. The Countess took a deep breath in of the smoke from the end of her chunk, before she answered.

"She's seven."

"...And would it be too prying to know what planet she's from?" Ben continued, cautiously, but the Countess smiled, unexpectedly.

"She's named after the planet she comes from." She replied, mysteriously, and Ben frowned, wracking his brain for any recollection of a planet named 'Suna'.

After that, Ben changed the subject to something that had been bothering him a bit more.

"...Countess... why is Jacen not welcome?" The Countess frowned at Ben, with an expression of one who was getting bored with repeating answers to questions that had already been asked, "...You said that he tends to break into arguments... but that just means you would prefer not to have his company... if that was all you were uncomfortable with about Jacen... he would be welcome under the circumstances that he kept his mouth shut, right?"

The Countess took her cigar from between her teeth, tapping the ashes into a tray as she pursed her lips, considering, before a wry smile graced her features, signifying that Ben had deduced properly.

"With that in mind... why did you use the words 'Not welcome'?" Ben pressed.

The Countess turned her head to the side, as though there were something on the wall that she found fascinating, not replacing the cigar in her mouth.

Ben squirmed, uncomfortably, at the unpleasant glare on the Countess's face- it made him wonder exactly what she was upset about. She obviously held no fondness for his cousin, and Ben could respect that well enough, as she didn't seem to be too aggressive about whatever difference of opinions they might have... but he also had the distinct impression that there was something more about the situation in general that had the Countess out of sorts.

"That person..." The Countess finally said, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing the case of anger suppressants, "...That person is..."

The Countess had stopped to swallow one of her pills. Ben blinked, fidgeting like only a child under ten could understand, impatient for an answer, but knowing that he mustn't speak or interrupt- he couldn't tell if the Countess was trying to think of what it was that she didn't like about the person in question, or if she knew full well what she wanted to say and was just trying to think of a way to say it without using some kind of vulgar language.

The Countess's eyes closed, and suddenly, Ben saw her nose twitch.

Her eyes shot open.

"I smell chocolate!" She said, suddenly. All traces of the consternation that had marred her face before disappeared without a trace in an instant and were replaced with a somehow bland delight, but dignified all the same. If she'd changed the last word of her sentence, it could have been a mild alarm at the scent of a toxic gas.

Ben's mouth fell open, but he stopped himself from allowing the protest of exaggerated exasperation fall from his lips.

"I think my steward's just made some- let's goad him into allowing the two of us some mugs. Come- blood flow stimulates the brain!" The Countess stood and glided over to the stairwell, as she seemed disgusted at the idea of repulsorlifts.

In a stunned manner, Ben stared for just a moment.

With the mental resilience of most children Ben's age, he recovered quickly and followed after the Countess into the kitchen, which, like virtually every room in the Countess's strange house, was nothing like the room they'd just left- it rather looked as though they'd entered into a mud-and-thatch hut, except that it was clean and compact enough that the oven or stove wouldn't set fire to the wall.

And, as the Countess had said, her white-haired steward was standing in the middle of the room, glaring with exasperation at his employer, whom seemed to be doing a very neat job of goading him without saying much in the way of words.

"Why can't you ever have a sinus infection or something to a similar degree that blocks your sense of smell?" He was asking, but the Countess made no reply, except to hold out two mugs, insisting he pour the drink into them.

"We have a guest." She said, simply, and her steward relented, looking too worn to want to even attempt arguing, but he still only filled the Countess's mug halfway.

Without a word, the Countess pressed the other mug into Ben's hands and shooed him into the adjoining room, which, again, was different from the kitchen. Ben chose a seat on the end of a fluffy couch while the Countess perched herself in a bowl shaped cushion of a chair.

"We have much in common, then..." Ben observed, dryly, before sipping some of the drink, while the Countess snickered.

Neither of them spoke for a while, before Ben turned and asked the Countess a question.

"Countess... how do you feel?" He asked, awkwardly. The Countess gave him a blank stare, before she shrugged.

"The same way anyone else does, I suppose- it's one of those instincts... and it's not like there's a muscle you need to flex..." She replied, and Ben frowned, feeling frustrated at trying to put his question into words.

"Not like that... I mean... how do you feel... right now?" Ben tried clarifying, which made things a little more clear, but the Countess still replied that she wasn't sure.

"Why do you ask, Sieur Ben?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"...Because... I told you about how I can feel other people's emotions... but... you... I can't feel you... so... how do you... do that?" Ben finally managed, and the Countess made a noise of understanding, but didn't answer for a long time.

"...It's an ability which I've managed to at least muster after striving for years on it- I was forewarned by one of Jacci's teachers when she was still in school about some strange behaviors she exhibited, so I began to practice how to close my emotions inside myself. She has a similar ability as you do, so I thought it would be best to spare her some of the more painful aspects of living with such an accommodation." The Countess explained, and Ben's eyes widened.

"Jacci has empathy, too?" He asked, completely taken by surprise of information he hadn't even considered. The Countess smiled.

"It's probably because you have an ability that mirrors hers- since, technically, she had it first, being born earlier..." She mused, and when Ben asked what she was talking about, the Countess explained, "Jacci normally does not appreciate contact with others- you saw that illustrated when Master Solusar had his hand bitten- because physical contact causes the sensations to increase, almost lethally so. However, every time that you've come by, she has allowed, sometimes even wanting, for you to touch her."

Ben was silent at this proclamation.

"It's a feat that not everyone can claim- you should be proud of yourself." The Countess reassured him, swirling her mug, but not yet taking a sip.

Ben blushed, eyes sliding to the side as he thought over what the Countess was saying in a different light.

"...I think that's for a different reason..." Ben muttered, hiding behind the mug that he was drinking from, but he could feel the Countess's eyes on him, before he heard her laugh.

"Oh, how wonderful is love- that one tyrant that rules even the most rebellious of criminals with a gentle touch, and the philosophy that the wise man is not alone in his journey to find." The Countess mused, still not drinking her chocolate. Ben finished his mug, but then recalled something, which made him pause and look up at the Countess, who was smiling as though she had the taste of something reminiscent and reminding her of home in her mouth.

"Countess... this is the second time you've mentioned it... on Ord Mantell, you had a similar reaction... but you didn't get a chance to answer when I asked you this question..." The Countess's smile faded, as though she were dreading the forthcoming question, "...Have you ever been in love?"

The Countess's silvery gaze shifted from whatever she had been staring at in midair to Ben, her expression grave, before she looked away, remorsefully, towards the wall, at the large, abstract painting on the wall, and Ben stared at it too, wondering if it was important in some way.

It wasn't an attractive painting- although, the fact that it was actual oil and color on real canvas as opposed to a holo painting was something to say, in and of itself- but for some odd reason, it depicted of two figures that had vague faces and bodies that practically blended in with the background, which was just a twist of coils and melted metallic pieces. The whole piece was red, except for a small, emerald green flower that separated the faces of the two lovers. Actually, the flower made the piece seem like an optical illusion work, in which the flower itself gave shape to everything else- were it not for the strange shape of the flower, Ben would never have seen the noses and barely touching lips of the two figures, and thus, never have seen their faces.

With this in mind, Ben jumped when the Countess spoke.

"I have..." She replied, eyes fixed on the painting, as though it held all the secrets of the universe, or, indeed, as if it had been the very thing to ask her the question, and thus, was the thing that she needed address to answer. Ben was silent for a moment, somehow sensing the sacred manner in which the Countess revered the moment, before continuing when it was apparent that no further information was forthcoming.

"What kind of man was he?" Ben asked, and the Countess's eyes shifted back to him, with a sharp flash that made his insides quake, "...If it's not too personal of a question..."

The Countess stared at him with those eyes for a moment, and the thought flitted across his mind how his mother had wanted him to be armed to defend himself, how he'd said, of all things, it would be rude, and now, here he was, a very irate and dangerous woman sitting not a meter away from him, and she appeared to be very ready to pounce.

"It's not personal..." She finally replied, though her eyes did not soften, before she continued.

"That man... I was so very young at the time... and it was partially the naiveté of youth and the blindness of love that distorted my image of him... but he was perfect to me... and to everyone else, as far as I could see..." The Countess's eyes broke away again, but this time, stared down at the floor, "He was kind... humble... caring... sincere... He would go to any lengths for those who he cared for, and always managed to find some good in a person, a people, a planet, even the most dire of situations, and never failed to come when someone needed him..." The Countess's eyes closed, as though she was in great pain, and Ben understood- somehow, even without his empathy for most other Humans, the words of the Countess reached into him and gripped his heart, squeezing, as though to meld and change the pattern of his heartbeat.

"I loved him... but I also admired him... That man... was everything to me." The Countess's eyes opened again, a small twitch of the corner of her lips changing her expression- it wasn't a smile, or a grimace, but it was SOMEthing, "He was a teacher... a father... a friend... I worshiped him like a God... And, in my foolishness, I thought for so very long that, perhaps, just perhaps... he felt the same way for me... until..."

"Some misfortune befell the two of you..." Ben finished, causing the Countess to cast him a sad smile.

"...No... misfortune is the last word I would use... it would imply that nothing could be done to prevent it... and it did not befall the two of us... just myself." Ben's eyes widened and he suddenly felt a pang between his ribs and an ache in his legs and arms that made him want to go over and give the Countess a hug- she sounded so very miserable.

"...Did... was he seeing someone? Or... did he die or..." Ben asked, cautiously, but the Countess shook her head.

"He abandoned me... at a moment that I would have needed him the most... I was still a child... and, if nothing else, I needed someone to take me in, even if for a little while... and, when he was asked to come to see me... he turned away, left the room... and forgot me, entirely." The Countess's voice dropped to a whisper, "In that moment, I realized that not only he had never cared for me as I did him... but I had never had a chance... If I ever reappeared before him, again, as myself... he would never see me as more than a child whose company was bearable, possibly amiable... but never as a possible lover."

Ben's grip on the mug in his hands tightened, as he stared into the brown chocolate inside- he saw his face staring back up at him in agitation, then disappear as his hands shook and ripples broke the image.

"...What happened to him... or do I not want to know?" Ben asked. The Countess didn't answer, and Ben didn't find out until her steward entered the room with a tray to take the mugs away from them and back into the kitchen.

"Ah... just the usual... moved on... got married... and then got busy..." He answered for the Countess, who threw her mug at him, hitting him square in the face, without moving any more than her arm holding the mug. It didn't seem to cause the man any pain, except that her chocolate went into the air, staining her steward's hair a kind of patchy brown.

The steward didn't even flinch- he simply waited for the mug to fall onto the tray and then walked back into the kitchen.

Ben watched the strange interaction with a somewhat horrified look on his face, before he turned to the Countess with his jaw hanging open.

"What? He shouldn't be using language like that in front of you- he knows better." She replied to his unspoken question or exclamation. Ben's jaw shut with an audible click, before the Countess looked at the timepiece on the wall and stood.

"I think I've taken enough time out of your day- if you have a pressing need elsewhere, you're free to go." She said, and Ben stood, thanking her for her hospitality.

As he left though, Ben couldn't help but feel like he'd said something over the course of the date which had been incredibly rude, or, if nothing else, had offended the Countess more than she wanted to admit.

* * *

The Countess watched the transport she'd sent one of her valets to drive make it's way towards the inner city, where Ben lived. 

Behind her, Gornash appeared and placed a hand on her shoulder. The Countess's expression darkened, and she didn't brush him off, but she still said nothing.

"Tilus." Gornash finally said, summoning the man who had been behind them, who stood to attention, "Tomorrow, a transport will go past the uppermost dock- you must stop it at that dock, even at risk of your own life, without fail, without harming the two passengers."

Gornash only spoke as he knew the Countess would have if she were not still lost in thought. Tilus just leered.

"Can I eat them?"

* * *

Ben reached home safely enough, although lost in thought. The last time he had been so absorbed after departing the Countess, it had led him to being kidnapped by bandits... but he'd been thinking about something significantly different. 

During the whole time, he'd asked questions about the Countess because he had been curious... but now... he wondered if he really should have asked. Ben was very bothered by what she'd told him about her past, and not just because of the way she described it, or the fact that it had actually happened instead of the luxury of thinking that it was just a story...

Ben shook himself awake as the door to the vehicle opened and he stepped out to return to the dwelling he lived in with his parents.

His parents were nowhere to be found until the time for an evening meal came, and it was when the three of them were all together in the same room, each picking at their own food in their own manner- his father probably out of restlessness, his mother out of a full mind filling up her appetite, and Ben himself out of general disgust for the food served- that his realization for his disquiet came and he finally asked his parents a question.

"Mom... Dad... how did you two meet?" He asked. Both his mother and father looked up and seemed honestly surprised for once in all the time Ben could remember. They turned to look at each other for a little while, but then looked back at their son.

"What brings this on, Ben?" His father asked, and Ben gave his father a look that no child his age should ever be used to wearing before he shrugged.

"...I just... I want to know..." He answered, before offering, "I just don't know how long or well you two knew each other... before you got married..."

Ben's mother cast a look to her husband, then smirked, before turning back to her son.

"Actually, when I first met Farmboy over there, I was trying to kill him- we got to know each other pretty well, even if it wasn't the best sides of each other." She replied, but Ben's serious expression didn't fade- it seemed to grow even more intense, until his mother rolled her eyes and sighed, "We met about twenty years ago, if that's what you were asking about- married after ten."

The glare in Ben's eyes lessened, but his frown didn't. Ben's father seemed to note this, and finally sighed.

"Ben... Your mother has answered you, but you're still not happy with her answer- what do you want to know that she hasn't told you?" He asked, patiently. Ben didn't relax, and immediately answered.

"How did you two fall in love?" He replied and Ben felt somewhat wickedly pleased that his father looked so caught off guard at this proclamation, "Did you two suddenly look at each other one day and realize it, or did it take time? Did you spend all those ten years together, getting to know each other better, Dad, because you didn't want Mom to gut you, or did Mom's employer or friend or whatever make her spend time with you for business reasons or something? Did you go out for dinner or send each other flowers and notes all the time, or did you just see each other in an office? And why did you two decide to get married at the end of it?" Ben pressed, making sure his interrogation questions were thorough enough and saw they had their desired effect of confusion, shock, and discomfort in his parents as they shared another glance. He was beginning to wonder if they thought he couldn't see them as they looked at each other with that analytical look.

"Well, between the time that your mother and I first met and got married, there weren't a lot of times when we met- but the few times we did, we had to cooperate or get eaten, shot, or worse. Under those circumstances, we grew to know each other better, develop a friendship, and then we fell in love." His father finally explained, leaning back in his chair. Ben continued to frown, head buzzing with so many questions, still.

"But... if Mom originally wanted to KILL you... why did she agree to go on missions that would require her to work with you? Why didn't she just kill you when she had the chance?" He pressed. His mother sighed, running a hand through her red hair, giving her son an exasperated look.

"Because I didn't really WANT to kill him- it was Palpatine's spirit commanding me to do it. However, after we had a confrontation with a man named Joruus C'Baoth and a clone he'd made of your father, I killed the clone and C'Baoth and stopped hearing the command and having nightmares. And after that, we got along better."

Ben's eyes widened.

"...So... when Dad proposed, you two just... knew?" He pressed, starting to feel a gnawing sensation in his stomach that made him very uneasy about this story. His father frowned and his mother paused, they shared another glance, and then looked back at him.

"It wasn't just that we loved each other, Ben- we could feel a pull, a connection, which told us that we were meant to be together, that we were... destined... I guess you could say, to be married." His father finally explained, which did not ease Ben's mood at all- in fact, it did the opposite and upset him even further.

"Through the Force, you mean..." He surmised, and his father nodded, as though relieved, apparently taking his son's statement as a positive acknowledgment of the Force. Ben continued to frown.

"So, you let the Force play matchmaker, then?" He pressed, wanting to know how far his parents would admit the limit being pushed. His father took a deep breath in, thought about it, then shrugged.

"That might be one way to put it... really, the Force gave us the push that said it was time to get married to each other." He finally conceded. Ben ground his teeth together.

"But the Force didn't tell you that you loved each other?" He pressed and his mother gave him a look.

"Of course not- nobody can tell anyone else what their emotions are." She told him. Ben frowned, more worriedly than upset this time, and asked another question.

"...So... how do you know that you love each other?" Ben continued, doing his best to make the question sound truly innocent. Both his parents honestly stared at him for a good five minutes before his father answered him.

As best he could, anyway.

"For starters, we've worked together to save each other's necks on more than one occasion. It's not uncommon for people to work through situations like that, starting off as enemies and becoming at least friends by the end- that's how your Aunt Leia and Uncle Han fell in love-"

"Adversity draws people closer together." His mother put in.

"-And we got along well enough as friends for a few years before we got married."

"Not to mention that it was your father who HELPED me free myself from Palpatine's influence and redeemed me from almost becoming a Sith AND trained me to be a Jedi..."

"As well as the fact that your mother willingly allowed me past her defenses to coordinate on Nirauan, helped me rebuild the Order, and, of course, the fact that you're here- all of those pieces put together tells us that we love each other." His father finally said, and Ben scowled.

"But how does saving each other mean you love each other?" He finally demanded, and his tone must have been so very surprising, because his mother and father's expressions sharpened, and he didn't care, "All it means is that you're grateful to each other and respect the other's ability to survive, possibly admire it, but it doesn't necessarily mean that you love each other- if people just needed to save each other to cement love into a relationship, Dad would be in love with you AND Aunt Leia, Uncle Han, General Antilles, and so many other people all at once." Ben saw all color drain from his father's face, but he continued, "Suppose that the way you feel for each other is just that you respect each other, are grateful for the other saving your neck, and you find the other's company enjoyable- amiable, at best- and were just physically attracted to each other enough to get busy..." Now, his mother's face went pale, before the both of them had a rise of color to their ears, and Ben reminded himself to thank the Countess next time he saw her for teaching him such advanced vocabulary with which he seemed to have shocked his parents, "...But you're not actually IN LOVE? How can you be sure?"

His mother's brow creased into a frown.

"Ben, you're not old enough to understand..." She said, firmly and Ben met her expression with equal ferocity.

"I am, too- or was it not my mother that said just a few seconds ago that nobody can tell anyone else what their emotions are?" Ben snapped. It shut his mother up for a second, and then she started again, sounding agitated, but also upset in a different sense.

"It's not a matter of emotions, Ben- it's a matter of age. When you're older, you'll understand." She insisted, and Ben was satisfied that he'd been right in his suspicion.

"You're just scared!" He declared, loudly, which made his mother's face pale, again, "You're both just scared that one morning, the other one is going to wake up and have that feeling in their gut that they AREN'T actually in love with you, and then they'll leave and you'll be alone again!"

"BEN!" Ben jumped, as his father raised his voice for the first time to his memory. His father was sitting up straight, arms on the armrests of his chair like a ruler who was calling a strict attention to his domain, and a kind of fury in his eyes that Ben had not thought was possible, especially for the self-proclaimed Grand Master of the Jedi Order, "Go to your room- you're upsetting your mother."

It was a command, and Ben both resentfully and gladly obeyed, all too happy to storm away from the table, deliberately standing up straight, tall, and proud to show his parents that he didn't care.

As his back disappeared from sight, Luke glanced over at Mara, who had her elbows resting on the table and her face buried in her hands. She didn't make any noise, and if it weren't for her shaking, he would have thought she was trying to calm herself from the fury she was feeling. As it was, however, Luke extended a hand, meant to calm her, but Mara shrunk away, like a snake that does not want to be disturbed.

"Don't..." She managed, her voice trembling with mixed hurt, anger, and fear, "Don't... TOUCH... me..." Luke's hand retreated, he cast his wife a look, like she was ill again and he could do absolutely nothing to ease the pain, then walked away.

In his room, Ben adjourned to bed early, and spent all night in a fit of insomnia, attacking his mattress and pillow as thought they were the cause of all his troubles now.

By dawn, Ben hadn't slept at all, his head swimming with the emotions of his parents downstairs, making him feel sick and wishing he could pass out like he always did, but he looked up, out of his window and saw, to his astonishment, two small bottles of glass, filled with tiny pills.

Ben took them in, and read the notes attached to their necks.

_Take only one red pill to calm your seizures due to your empathy. Take only one blue pill for insomnia. If you take any more than but one, it will act as a poison. -CMC_

Ben hid the bottles under his bed, swallowed one of the blue pills, which smelled acidic and positively putrid, tasting even worse on the tip of his tongue, but it cured his need for sleep, letting Ben rest without dreams within ten minutes.

* * *

The lady Winter Celchu was normally kept busy- in fact, she preferred it that way. To have something to occupy her hands kept her from being distracted by the many recordings that her mind kept supplying in gracious quantities. As such, she was always in motion, especially these days, and there were even some days that not even her husband could keep her seated. 

It was fortunate, therefore, that Leia had known Winter for so long that she knew every single trick in the book when Winter couldn't keep still.

However, to keep some propriety, Leia had brought a stack of reports in the hover car with her- she and her old friend could go over them while talking and enjoying their ride, as they were quite adept at multitasking as all women are capable.

The Senator arrived at Winter's apartment, shared with Tycho, whom had begged Leia to get Winter out of the house, as he had been growing tired and worn just watching her work. Inwardly, Leia mused, it must have been a comical sight, watching the usually stoic Winter frantically keeping busy, possibly even scrubbing the floor or doing dishes, with her perfect poker face still firmly on her face, but said nothing about it as Winter met her outside.

"I've never seen a hover car quite like this one, Leia- did you and Han make an investment?" Winter asked, looking around the interior, which was lush with velvet seats, brocade cushions, and carpeting in rich, dark Kuati designs. There were even curtains on the windows. It couldn't have possibly been rented or a taxi. Leia blushed, a little modestly, as she turned away from the report she'd been reading.

"Actually, I should have told you the story last week- there was a misunderstanding between Han and I about the _Falcon_ and I sold it to an aristocrat, who paid the money that the Senate needed for the repairs, and then it was returned with adjustments- Han went over the ship three times, and kept finding new inclusions, like extra storage compartments, new equipment, replaced furnishings that had been worn over the years- and this was one of the extras he found, stowed away in the tank which was a new hiding compartment." Leia explained. Winter gave the car another glance, then made a neutral humming noise in the back of her throat as the car jerked and moved forward.

"So, the proposal to the Senate went well, I presume?" She asked, turning to a different subject, and looking over one of her half of the reports, as she was meant to be helping Leia with these.

"Actually, yes- there was a great deal left over from the budget for repairs, and all the multiple factions got a percentage of the leftovers, which was just enough to keep everyone happy and united as a Confederation." Leia said, smiling. Winter frowned, imperceptibly, except for by Leia.

"That almost seems like bribery." She noted, and Leia frowned in the exact same manner as Winter.

"It does... except, on the record, it's said more that 'A compromise was met that the leftover donation was divided and then donated to preferred causes of the multiple factions to appease them'... Even if it is bribery, when all is said and done... there's nothing we can do about it..." Leia was looking distractedly out the window.

"But, at least there's no more of the cutthroat atmosphere there was last week- it's rare for a political atmosphere to change so rapidly, unless there is a sudden attack by terrorists or the like." Winter offered, helpfully, but Leia's mood didn't lessen.

"I just can't shake the feeling that somebody is behind it- as though a person, an actual being with a purpose in mind, is engineering these events so that their goal is met." She confessed, signing a proposal. Winter didn't say anything, not even able to think of a person who would match a description like that, before Leia changed the subject, "How's your life been, this week? You and Tycho didn't have an argument, did you?"

Winter sat up a little straighter.

"What gave you that impression?" Only those very close to Winter would have noticed the slight inflection in her voice that hinted she was upset at this indirect accusation. Leia raised a hand and made a pacifying gesture.

"It was just the way Tycho asked me to take you out for the day- I'm not pointing a finger or saying that you did." She reassured her. Winter's eyes softened, then returned to their usual stoicism, before she asked, offhandedly,

"Who's driving this? Surely Han is too busy playing with his new toy _Falcon_ to play chauffeur..." She noted, the light of sun glinting off buildings outside shining through the curtains and going by in sharp flashes. Leia snickered a little.

"He is- almost like a kid in a candy shop... I hired a man from a business that rents drivers- they have an excellent reputation." She told Winter, pulling open one of the curtains and then leaning back with a start at how quickly everything was going by, "Driver! Aren't we going a little too fast?" Leia rapped her knuckles on the window that separated them from the driver's seat, but received no response. Winter frowned and Leia knocked again, louder, in case he couldn't hear her, but Winter leaned forward and studied the shadowy outline of what was supposed to be their driver.

He didn't seem to be sitting up straight- that much was for sure.

"Winter, the window is stuck- do you have any of your tools?" Leia asked, frowning over her shoulders as Winter calmly took inventory of what she had on her- at best, her heeled shoes and pen.

"No." She replied, firmly, and then bent forward to attempt to find some way of at least braking in emergency, while Leia tried to calm herself enough to control the vehicle.

However, there presently came a loud thump- as though something round, large, and dense had landed on the front- and the vehicle jerked backwards, sending Winter and Leia back into the other seat. On instinct as a bodyguard, Winter's arms came up to brace Leia's fall, before she realized that Leia had tried the same thing on her. The reports flew over the inside of the car, and landed on the seats and floor, while the two ladies untangled themselves from each other and tried to set things in order. As Leia sorted the reports back into their proper organization, Winter pried open the door and poked her head out to try and see what had been the cause of their sudden halt.

There was, indeed, something round, large, and dense sitting on the front of the car- a very round, compact man sat right where the engine had been, replaced by a perfectly bowl-shaped dent.

Aside from him, a tall, white-haired man was leaning over the driver's compartment, as though inspecting some kind of damage, while there stood a person in a strange suit and tall hat with a wide brim over seeing the damage. Cautiously, Winter approached, and the person in the suit turned to glance at her.

"I apologize for the rude start Tilus must have caused you, but we saw the distress you were in." The person's voice sounded like a woman's but, as Winter looked over her attire, she seemed far to masculine, before Leia looked out and exclaimed,

"Oh! It's the Countess of Madame Crigan!" Confirming that this person was, indeed, a woman. Indeed, the Countess smiled back at Leia, warmly.

"Well, it's a pleasure to see you again, Senator. I hope that I find you well as can be expected, today?" She asked, congenially. Leia's expression was polite, but cold.

"Unfortunately, the both of us nearly died of panic, given a slight difficulty, as you saw." Winter replied, as only she could do- Leia couldn't afford to be anywhere near as blunt as Winter had just been, or she might be seen as rude, possibly even accusing, but after a moment, the steward with white hair poked his head back out.

"Milady!" The Countess turned to the address, "The driver is sick- heat stroke of some kind."

"Then why are you letting him continue roasting under that magnifying lens of a windshield? Hurry- get him out and into the house, where it's cool." The Countess replied, somewhat snappishly. The steward promptly leaned back in and then disengaged again with a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties and, indeed, very sick from the sun. With prompt response to his mistress's order, the steward strode towards the house- one of the floor to ceiling windows slid open and allowed them inside, while the Countess seemed to follow, but in a sedate pace that did not alienate her guests.

"Ladies, if you would care to come in- I could have some refreshment brought in while a mechanic comes to fix the damage, and remaining out in the sunlight cannot possibly be good for your complexions." She spoke of their complexions with a kind of sarcastic air, but neither Winter nor Leia could tell if she was jesting or if she was being mocking of what she thought their honest values were. None the less, Leia did respond well.

"We would appreciate a place to sit down- there is still work that we need to have done." She gestured to her reports, "I just hope we won't be offending you by continuing business under your hospitality."

The Countess smiled, gesturing to them as though offering to take their arms as an escort. Winter glanced over towards Leia, only slightly, but could see her smiling politely, and following her cue as she followed the Countess over to the room in the shade of the roof. There was a table waiting with three chairs and a tray of tall glasses with ice in them and a pitcher with citrus juice in it.

"Not at all- I, too, am a woman of business, and thoroughly appreciate your urgency. Indeed, I'm afraid I shall be a very poor hostess for a short while, while I care for the driver."

The driver was on a couch, all of his over clothes removed and hanging on a coat rack with a towel over his middle for decency, and the steward was pulling bottles, vials, flasks, and jars from a cupboard along the wall, seemingly preparing medicines of some kind, which only added to the Countess's words that she would be dealing the care.

"Oh, I didn't know you were a medic..." Leia replied, maintaining the polite conversation. Winter kept her ears sharp, recognizing the glance from Leia's eyes to mean that she wanted to learn more evidence of who the woman was, beyond just _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te_.

"My mother was a medic before me, and when she died in an accident, leaving me with my father ill, I wanted to learn how to become a medic, myself. Unfortunately, I was involved in the accident, too, and by the time I had learned the necessary skills of medicine, my father had long been expired."

Under the roof, Winter didn't flinch as she noticed the significant drop in temperature and the withdrawal of humidity from the air. She breathed in the sharp, chilled air and seated herself next to Leia at the table, while noting out of the corner of her eye the specific procedures that the Countess went about. First, she removed the white gloves on her hands and replaced them with sterile rubber ones that were laid out next to her medicines. Then, with cautious precision, and simultaneous urgent haste, she mixed a dish of only a few teaspoons of red liquid with a single spoonful of a blue powder, turning it into a thick semi-liquid. She let a piece of wax rest in the bowl for a while, and Winter saw that, apparently, a chemical reaction caused the liquid to suddenly bubble and melt the wax until it mixed with the liquid, producing a balm.

As she waited, the Countess put a wet, folded cloth over the man's head, on his chest, and wrapped around his wrists and elbows and put a piece of ice inside the fold. By that time, the balm was ready, and the Countess swiftly took a scraper, supplied a good amount of the balm onto it, and spread it over his face, particularly his sinuses and under his nose and lips. Before the Countess was finished, she finally turned the man's head to the side and checked his mouth- Winter remembered her first aid training that in a situation such as this one, a victim must be moved into such a position that they wouldn't choke on their own tongue or vomit. What she was surprised to see, however, was the Countess retrieve a bag, similar to an intravenous feeder, and thread the tube through the man's mouth, until she'd apparently placed it down his throat, and then hung up the sac- Winter could see it was filled with pure water- and then pulled off her gloves.

Winter's eyes returned to the report almost as soon as the Countess turned back around.

"Senator, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't believe I am acquainted with your company." She said, sitting down in the third chair and returning her old gloves to their proper place on her hands and beginning to pour the pitcher into the glasses. Leia looked up from what she'd been reading over and thankfully accepted the drink. Winter took hers, but just stirred it, a little.

"Not at all- it's simply that you were busy and I didn't want to interrupt." Leia replied, gracefully. Winter didn't reply, focusing on the conversation- something about this woman gave her a very bad feeling, just on instinct.

"In that case, if I'm not disturbing you at an inopportune moment, could I have an introduction?" The Countess replied. Winter kept her eyes focused on the woman- why hadn't she taken a glass for herself?

"Certainly- Countess, this is my friend and aide, Winter Celchu. Winter, this is the Countess of Madame Crigan, a new citizen of the Republic." Leia explained, gesturing between the two. Winter's eyes darted to Leia's glass- it was still perfectly full, which made breathing a little easier for her.

"Countess, you wouldn't happen to be the particular aristocrat that Leia told me about on our ride who traded the repairs money for the _Millennium Falcon_, only to give it back within the same day, would you?" Winter asked, courteously. The Countess shrugged.

"I might. It would depend on how technical you wish to be- I certainly did not take it back over, nor did I make any of the modifications, as my technological ability is limited to theory alone." The Countess replied, casually. Winter took this to mean yes, before the Countess continued.

"Madame Winter, am I right in thinking you have some interest in medicine, or at least chemistry? You were watching how I dealt with the driver's heatstroke so intensely..." The Countess asked, and Winter couldn't stop herself from blinking in surprise, but immediately regained her bearings.

'Lie.' Her training as a spy and actor told her, and she did so, feigning the interest, while she'd known about as much as there was to chemical warfare as any other spy who'd intercepted secret documents and other such paraphernalia about such weapons, excepting that she remembered every word, right down to the handwriting.

"Yes- I must admit I am... I was simply unsure if it would be too indiscreet of me to ask you what you were doing." Winter replied, the words coming as easily as the false sincerity. The Countess chuckled, a little.

"It wouldn't be indiscreet at all- I take it that you are familiar with the practice of cooling a person's body and rehydrating them after a heatstroke, as I was doing with the cloths, ice, and feeding tube. Your watching became a little less intense as I went about those procedures." The Countess said, off-handedly, but Winter frowned.

"How could you tell that- your back was to us." She asked. The Countess chuckled.

"I have eyes in many places..." She replied, just as her steward, whom had been standing behind her chair, occasionally looking over at the patient, interrupted.

"Milady, please take a drink." He said, and when his employer raised an eyebrow at his insolence, he continued, with the same monotone that mirrored Winter's usual stoicism, "I feel hot just looking at you, especially with that glass right there condensing and the ice in it, melting." The Countess gave her steward a strange look, before pouring herself a glass and then asking.

"Steward, are you my mother or my hire?" The steward didn't even balk.

"Both, Milady- my contract specifically states I am to look out for your well being." Winter saw Leia hide a quirky smile behind her glass as the Countess took a sip, "And your company was waiting for you to drink, just in case it was poisoned."

The Countess ignored the second part of his statement, but Winter understood that the steward had been the 'eyes in many places' that the Countess had explained.

"In any case, Madame Winter, since you lost interest at the commonplace procedures, I can only assume it was something else that caught your interest." The Countess continued on the conversation as though she hadn't been diverted. Winter nodded, and allowed a personal curiosity overcome her.

"Actually, the balm you prepared was something that I was curious of- was it a part of the conventional treatment of sunstroke that you simply have to prepare from scratch, or is it something else?" Winter asked, and the Countess looked back to the bowl of balm, which was still just sitting there- perhaps in case it was needed immediately within the next hour...

"That's an alteration of a home remedy from my mother's homeworld- at least, one that her parents used on her, so whether it's actually a cultural remedy, I wouldn't quote. When infused with the medicinal, scientific knowledge of a proper medic, it is actually, a very fit treatment for heatstroke. The liquid and powder react to create a substance that slows blood flow when inhaled and send a signal to the brain to stop the secretion of sweat- thus, the body is internally cooled and the halting of sweat production keeps the body from dehydrating itself further that it already is. Then, as a wax made from the melting and reforming of tallow and combining with beeswax has a chemical reaction with the liquid solution, it forms a balm that keeps the fumes in much better than a liquid form, making it safe to use around people, and render as a medicine."

The explanation caused Leia and Winter's eyebrows to raise- for once, the feigned interest slipped from Winter, replaced with an honest intrigue, for this was a very new preparation that she'd heard.

"What are the ingredients? In heat like this, which is predicted by most meteorologists to last for at least another day or so, it might be useful if more people knew of it, or at least had access to some supply." Winter put in, but the Countess frowned.

"I wouldn't form any ideas of praise, Madame Winter- the tiniest bit which I used on your poor driver will keep him from death, and, once he awakens, another dose of the precise same size will put him in fit enough condition to drive you two back home, but a smear twice the size of the one I used would lower his temperature enough to give him a condition resembling hypothermia, and in it's raw form as a liquid, a single drop of it would give him a heart attack, almost near fatality." She warned, and Winter's eyebrows raised, while Leia looked vaguely alarmed that they had been in the same room as that basin when it had been prepared.

"So, it's a poison, then?" Leia asked, cautiously and again, the Countess frowned.

"Let's not be hasty in the categories- in truth, in the world of medicine, the word 'poison' has very little meaning when classifying substances, as most medicines are actually poisonous chemicals combined together, in such infinitesimal doses that they become great cures. That is why, after all, the bottles of any kind of medicine, from pain relievers, to antibiotics, to multivitamins, will state what the dosage is and not to take more than one of it within the time period. And, let's not forget the two components that compose the medicine- the liquid is a concentrated form of beta blockers, which cause blood pressure to lower, and the powder is a narcotic that influences the brain to stop specific functions, in our case, specially engineered to stop the loss of water from the body. Alone, these two chemicals would be excellent remedies to a person with high blood pressure, congested heart failure, and a number of other cardiac conditions, or mental disease and even act as a sleeping aid... but only if administered properly. In inappropriate doses, these two could kill a person very easily." The Countess replied. Winter sat back in her chair, and thought over this.

"It sounds like that specific remedy you spoke of would be very useful for pilots- especially the management of perspiration, as they are usually inside an enclosed cockpit with feeble air cooling systems, under the harsh glare of the sun through their windows, and unable to benefit from the cooling effect of sweat, as the air is usually still and stagnant inside their cockpits." She finally said, and the Countess seemed to agree with her.

"It certainly would be... why? Madame Winter, are you a pilot?" She asked. Winter shook her head and looked over at Leia.

"Leia's husband, Captain Solo, is a pilot, and engineer of his own ship, and so often under similar conditions... but you already knew that..." Winter replied, before adding, "And my husband, Tycho, is a leader in the Rogue Squadron." Leia gave her friend a disapproving look- one that spoke more of her disappointment towards her self disregard, than anything else.

"But the _Falcon_'s layout is different from the X-wings- especially, given recent events-" Leia cast the Countess a queer glance, "The cockpit now has a cooling system for the pilot and co-pilot, as well as the passengers, while the cockpits for X-wings only has a cooling system that keeps the hardware from overheating and shorting out."

The Countess chuckled, and then looked sadly between the two.

"How rude of me to play favorites between two friends such as yourselves... Very well, then, Madame Winter- if it would set your mind at ease, I would be willing to provide a sample of the already made balm for your husband, and a back-up supply of ingredients and the recipe." The Countess offered. Winter turned to the Countess with mild surprise, even as none of it showed on her face.

"That would make it a bit easier for him, and I would hold nothing but gratitude to you for that. But I would feel very awkward leaving your house with something so potent when the two of us just crashed here on accident."

Winter saw the look on the Countess's face- it was something of a smile, but she couldn't imagine what she was smiling for, except, perhaps appreciation. What disturbed her, however, was the fact that there was obviously something else underneath that smile, and Winter couldn't analyze the precise emotion that was coming from her hostess.

"If that is how you would like it, then I can understand. If it would not be too direct of me, I shall come calling on you some time during the week, Madame Winter, with the remedy and it's components."

"It wouldn't be direct at all- I'll be anticipating your visit." Winter answered, watching the Countess carefully.

* * *

After the driver had awakened, redressed, and the coach had been completely repaired, the Countess bid both Winter and Leia goodbye, leaving them to return home at their leisure. 

As they left, however, Leia and Winter did not continue with the work that they had brought with them.

"What did you think?" Leia asked Winter, in a tone that meant strict business.

"She's dangerous. That much is for sure- the way she was talking about poisons, and how much she knew about them... not to mention that she was being very friendly for someone who you just met..." Winter answered, eyes focused out the window, as though trying to maintain contact with the house. Leia seemed know very well what she meant.

"That's what I thought, too... After the incident with the _Falcon_, I tried to find some record of the planet 'Madame Crigan'... but there's no record of it, even in the history of the archives... I cross-referenced so many different sources of information, and nobody has heard of it."

"And, if we don't have any other information on this woman, we can't find out who she is... it would be wise to be cautious whenever she invites us over or asks to visit..." Winter agreed.

But she wondered- why had the Countess so WILLINGLY spoken of poisons, especially if the recipe for that cure was something so precious?

A/N: You have NO idea how long I spent researching anatomy and physiology of the human body to be sure I had my medical information right- this chapter was near impossible to write, near the end.

As for the scenes with Ben... PLEASE realize that something is going on here- something more than just the eye can see... Like, two forces battling for Ben's soul, kind of something...


	8. Chapter 7

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Some people were wondering why the Countess's moods change so much- like, why she's sometimes so nice to people, and other times, so snappish, even to people that she "likes". That's because the original CMC had a similar attitude towards his servants and anyone else who he deemed 'below' him- which was... everyone. So, just so you know, it's kind of my little tribute to the book.

But, I guess, technically, she is kind of two-faced... So, it's also the fact that she's just a moody character. No, she's not a very nice woman, is she?

Chapter 7:

In the Visitor's District of the Coruscanti levels, there was a small hotel that was usually rented out for single nights- mostly for visitors who were simply on their way somewhere else, arrived too early for their other hotel reservations, or business that would only occupy two days.

Today, there was a man of about fifty from the Calipsa Province in one of these rooms, by all appearances, awaiting a business rendezvous. His hair was long and gray with age, but he looked as though he had been blond when he was younger, and his face was square, but somehow rounded, and pleasant to look at, especially if he'd smiled. His clothes seemed to be that of a working man, yet they were lined with fine silk, cuffs fastened with decorated buttons, and vest made of luxurious velvet, revealing that he was truly a noble in his play clothes, as though he'd been about to go on a sporting hunt. A pet animal, very much like a dog, rested at his feet, ears perked and nose twitching as though expecting something to happen which might threaten his master, but otherwise remaining calm. However, in just a matter of minutes, the animal's head rose, eyes focused on the door of the room, as thought someone was outside.

The door slid open and a man entered, wearing robes of a kind of holy man, a gas mask covering his face and head bowed, as though there was something behind that mask that he was ashamed to have revealed, but was even more ashamed to wear a mask. The back of his head was covered with a veil.

"Are you the honorable Lord Corell Muntique from the House of Calipsa?" The man asked- his voice was very young, and the Lord's interest was struck by this.

"Only if you would be the Priest Fabia Arbe from the House of a Higher Power who wrote this letter for me." Muntique replied, smiling pleasantly, and showing the print of the message that the priest had sent. The man took it, read it over twice, and then nodded.

Muntique frowned, as he could not see the man's face from behind that mask, but did not pry.

"This is, indeed the letter I sent to you- I just hope that you have not gone to much trouble in coming here." The priest said, humbly, and did not look up at Muntique's face. The animal at his feet sat up a little and gave the priest a surreptitious look, as though gaging whether he was trustworthy or not, but made no noise to indicate anger, ferocity, or anything of the sort.

"Easy, Crill..." Muntique patted the creature's head, as the priest shifted, slightly uncomfortable.

"Aah... he's a vornskr... is that right?" Arbe asked, shyly, and Muntique smiled, thinly.

"Yes- don't worry, though... I've trained him not to bite strangers... he's mostly a hunting dog, but he's always been very... attached..." Muntique replied, scratching behind Crill's ear. The vornskr cast the priest another furtive glance, but rested his head on his master's knee.

"In any case... Lord Muntique... if we may keep on track- I would hate to waste time when there is a matter to be discussed at present..." The priest managed, and Muntique turned his attention back to the subject at hand.

"Yes, please- In your letter, you mentioned that you had heard of my difficulties in terms of a family and that you had found a remedy for them." Muntique asked, tapping his finger against the message he'd asked Arbe to confirm was his. The priest nodded, pulling a second message from inside his robes.

"I was informed in this letter- the sender was anonymous, but the citations were impeccable. If I may be permitted, I would read..." Arbe offered, and Muntique leaned in with interest.

"'The honorable Lord of the House Calipsa, Lord Corell Muntique, is facing a dilemma in the family structure of the Tapani Noble Houses- He stands to lose his position among the Lords if he cannot recover his son, whom was either abducted by an opposing family and sold for profit, or by pirates. I hope that you may find the young man, where ever he may be, and return him to his father, who has been searching for him for twenty years.' It is signed 'The Drunken Sailor'." Arbe looked up from the message, glancing at Muntique to verify if this was really addressing him. The Lord affirmed this, and the priest's masked face lowered to the printout before looking back up.

"I was unaware that you had taken on a wife, Lord Corell..." Arbe finally mentioned. Crill's ears perked up, as though he had heard something- which, technically he had, but the particular movement seemed to indicate that he sensed a threat.

"Nobody is truly aware, actually... the marriage was very... eccentric, compared to most others. Nonconventional, you might say..." Muntique explained, "Nobody knew that I'd married, as I kept the idea secret- and not for my own interest, as you can see, or else I wouldn't be in this spot of trouble, but..."

"For the sake of the mother of your son?" The priest asked. Muntique bowed his head.

"Her parents had entered her into a religious convent when she was very young, and she'd been forced to vow into celibacy, and if it had been known that she'd born a son, it would be shameful for her." Muntique explained. Arbe nodded, but tilted his head.

"Where was this convent?" He asked, with the good-humored curiosity of any priest.

"Onderon- it was the convent, female supplicant to the Shatoon Monastery." Replied the Lord, relieved at the way Arbe nodded, agreeably.

"And this dear woman has..." Arbe began, prompting as though he knew what the answer would be, and Muntique bowed his head, even further.

"...Yes... many years ago... I think it was the grief of losing our son that delivered the final blow..." He replied with an appropriate expression of mourning. The priest made a sign with his hands over his face, as though to indicate he was praying and blessing the passing on.

"Do not be sorrowful- all of us are mortal." Arbe consoled the man, before sitting up again, "Now, as you've probably guessed, this line of questioning has an end to a good purpose..." And Muntique also straightened, a small smile easing his features.

"Aah... it involves my son in some way, is that right?" Muntique asked. The priest nodded.

"You seem to have a fatherly intuition, at any rate- I can rest safely assured, in that case, that you are this boy's true father..." The priest noted, sounding excited behind his mask, "But, just to be sure... you have the documents, correct?"

"Documents?" Asked Muntique, frowning. The priest made a gesture.

"Yes- the boy's birth certificate and your marriage license. It's a legal technicality that must be observed."

"Oh- yes... of course..." Muntique agreed, pulling out a cloth and wiping his forehead, "But... since I didn't realize I'd need them... you see... I left them behind on Calipsa..." The Arbe nodded, understanding, but sighed.

"We seem to have a problem, then... could you, perhaps, arrange for an electronic transfer of the documents?" He asked, seemingly nearing the end of his patience.

Muntique shook his head, sadly, pressing the cloth to his brow in sorrow.

"Oh, why didn't I have some sensible foresight? I had them printed on paper when the marriage was sanctified and the child born... I wanted them to be difficult to reproduce, as is a possibility with all electronic documents... It was foolish of me, I see now... and here I am in need of them, for once in my life, and they're sitting in my desk, back home..." The Lord bemoaned, wringing his hands in his hair. Arbe patted him on the back, consolingly.

"Perhaps 'The Drunken Sailor' who led me to your tipoff had some foresight to the contrary- he included in his letter two confidential pieces of paper that he told me would be useful in an emergency, and I believe this would qualify." Arbe dug in his shoddy bag and pulled out the two pieces of paper that, once unpackaged and examined, turned out to be very valid copies of the two documents Muntique had failed to bring, but raised his suspicions.

"I don't mean to be rude, good Fabia Arbe... but I must ask you a question as to where you found these documents... after all, something of this sort could be seen as... well..." Muntique's eyes cast about, as though expecting to see someone watching them.

"Well, now that you mention it... I did receive this letter while I was on Tatooine... Just outside of Mos Eisley, to be precise..." Arbe agreed, seeming to understand the idea Muntique was going on. The Lord's eyes lit with understanding.

"Ah- and did you, perchance, go into a cantina that day and make inquiries?"

"Yes..."

"The one run by the old Wookie, Chalmun?"

"Why, yes- the very same!"

"Ah hah! Now, we're getting somewhere!" Muntique delightfully exclaimed, all the apprehension disappearing, "When you went into that cantina, did you ask, perhaps, a horned humanoid creature?"

"Now that I think about it, I do believe I did..."

"Did he appear drunk?"

"Yes..."

"Then that solves it- the suspicion of this note and these documents are the work of a poor information broker from beyond the Dune Sea... Knowing this makes me much more at ease to accept the generous offer to use these..." Muntique leaned back in his chair with a note of relief. Arbe didn't say anything, but the Lord had the impression he was smiling behind the mask.

"Well, if that is all that concerned you, I think now would be a good time then, to introduce you to the young man I found of the proper age and fitting description." He offered, standing and going to the door. Muntique raised his eyebrows and stood, but his expression shifted to delight as a young man entered the room.

"I believe this would be your son, Lord Muntique?" Arbe asked, but was not answered, as the young man swept across the room with a flourish and embraced Muntique with a grand sweep of his arms. The Lord returned the gesture, tears coming to his eyes at a moment's notice, both men reverently murmuring the words 'Father' and 'Son' over and over.

Fabia Arbe stood by, silently making a gesture as though blessing the reunion, and then bowed out of the room, letting the two men speak in private.

"Really, it is such a shame..." Mused the priest, before he left the room behind.

* * *

The day was gray and rainy when a hover carriage pulled up in front of the Celchu residence. Winter had been expecting the appointment, but Tycho was out, as fate would have it, on this day, so his wife was alone with her paperwork to receive their visitor. However, as Winter greeted the Countess, whom had apparently driven herself, she was surprised to see the woman alone as well, with a case in her grasp.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Countess..." Winter nodded, politely. Her gaze did not linger on the case, knowing that the Countess had said she would bring along a remedy for heatstroke- whether she was a woman of honor or not, Winter was about to find out.

"And I, you. Will Mon Tycho Celchu be joining us?" The Countess replied, following Winter inside. Winter raised an eyebrow at the odd honorific that she used, before shaking her head, and offering her guest a seat. The room had a table in the center, over which Winter had her work spread, and in hanging baskets and dry pots, ornamental household plants filled the room, which might have otherwise been made out of solid ice.

"He's busy." She explained, while the Countess simply opened the box she'd brought, taking out the ingredients for the remedy and pushing them across the table with written instructions.

"With some engineering? Or is war becoming more apparent than the public seems to expect?" The Countess asked, as Winter checked to make sure that the lady in question hadn't slipped her something like cyanide or a Molotov cocktail.

"A little bit of both, I'm sorry to say." Winter was lying through her teeth- it was none of her concern if a war started, she didn't feel any particular emotion about that. There was worry- worry for Tycho and Leia and her family, as virtually all wars had a tendency to involve them- and there was distaste for being forced to put back on her mask of a spy and an agent, but she truly wasn't that sorry that another war was starting.

The Countess seemed about as sorry to hear the news as Winter had said she was to say it, but Winter couldn't tell how sincere she was, because a moment later, she glanced around, expression still blank.

"Madame Winter..." She asked, with a slight frown as she felt the leaf of a plant that draped only slightly over the arm of the chair.

"Yes?" Winter asked, putting aside the medicine, now that she knew it was safe enough. The Countess didn't bat away the plant, but continued to examine it as best as possible without being rude.

"Do you and your husband plan on having a family?" The Countess asked, and Winter let the littlest bit of surprise show through.

"I don't believe so... both of us are past the age, really..." Winter said, wondering what it had to do with her household plants. She could see the Countess visibly relax.

"I see..." The Countess said, simply, before Winter inquired.

"May I ask why you are so concerned about our family planning?" She asked, before adding, "And what the household plants would have to do with it?"

The Countess acted surprised, though more as though she hadn't expected Winter to ask than at her words or tone of voice.

"I was simply concerned with safety matters." The Countess replied, and when Winter prodded, further, she explained, "These plants are dangerous to have in a household with small children in it- each and every one of them conceals a deadly poison."

Winter's face remained blank.

"That's... good to know..." She finally conceded.

"The Daphne plant, for example- a few berries can kill a child. And a single Castor Bean is near the lethal dose for an adult. But, if you plan on keeping this house childless, I suppose there's no need to worry, unless your husband has moments of insanity where he believes the plants are his dinner?" The Countess asked. Winter shook her head, not laughing at the joke.

"I'm thankful to know that... I had a lot of the same plants when I was acting as the caretaker of the Solo children... I'm glad they never were tempted to put any of the plants in their mouths..." Winter mused, a rare burst of panic coming, that she hadn't even realized that her household plants were so dangerous. The Countess smiled.

"Would you be referring to the twins, Selle Jaina and Sieur Jacen?" She asked. Winter raised an eyebrow in surprise that, apparently, her guest had met the twins, but nodded, stoically.

"Those two are special little things... perhaps it was because they could tell that these plants were poisonous through some sixth sense?" The Countess suggested, with a light shrug. Winter smiled, just a little.

"It wouldn't surprise me- those two get it from their mother, and Leia was always reckless, but never stupid about it." The Countess tilted her head, surprised.

"Oh? You've known the Senator for some time now, have you?" She asked, and Winter's smile became less icy.

"We grew up together- I was adopted by the Organas when my parents died, so we were almost like sisters." She explained, and the Countess's eyes softened.

"It sounds like you two must be very close then..." She mused, and Winter shrugged, not sure if it would be prudent to give away her entire history to this complete stranger, and in the end, she extrapolated as vaguely as she could.

"We're good friends, especially since we were both interested in politics, so the two of us were active in the Rebellion, we work together on our jobs and in general, act as complements for each other. I think that her father even once described us as a pair like winter and spring." Winter said, but the Countess didn't react, aside from to smile, as though saying 'That sounds nice.'

"Is she important to you, then?" The Countess inquired. Winter's mouth was set in a thin line, and she didn't answer, but the Countess let it go, "I imagine that you two must have grown apart, given how you're both married and she has children to worry over now..." Winter shrugged.

"I wouldn't say that- it suits Leia to be a mother... and at least she's found somebody who's good for her... and I can be of better assistance to the Republic, Tycho, Leia, and everyone from the position I'm in now." She said, simply, but the answer seemed to make something twinge inside of her. Stoic, though Winter was by nature, she was not emotionless. The Countess didn't notice the very subtle change in attitude.

"I was simply trying to find some common ground, that's all... On the planet I'm from, marriage is legally forbidden, so I, personally, have never had the same experience..." She said, lower lip protruding in just the slightest of pouts. Winter blinked at the odd peculiarity.

"Marriage is illegal? That's strange... How do you continue to survive on that planet?" Winter asked, somewhat dreading the answer, while the Countess gave her a queer glance, as though she should have realized it on her own.

"The same as on any planet... men and women still have children, as per usual... though, I will concede, the family structure is a little shifted- the Heads of the Household are always the mothers and the fathers will raise the children and care for the household... and, usually, the decisions are made based on mutual feelings- about ten percent of our population will never have children because they do not have romantic feelings which will push them in that direction..." The Countess paused, noting how intently Winter seemed to be listening, "It must make me seem like quite the savage here in the Core Worlds..." Winter didn't respond to that, but simply said,

"Still... almost all of the children on your world are born out of wedlock..." She kept her voice mild, more concerned for the state of those children but the Countess's features hardened.

"Marriage has been, from it's inception, a tool of patriarchal societies, designed to subvert and subjugate the women of it's body, even when they are in the majority of the population, so that men are dominant over them in all ways. It has no place on a planet where the women are rulers and the men are the wives." She seemed almost agitated, but Winter didn't take offense.

"I'm sorry- when you asked if you could come calling, you said you had some further business you needed to discuss. Is there something you need to talk with me about?" She asked, starting to feel uneasy. The Countess jumped, then laughed.

"Yes, of course- pardon my rambling." And she drew a small box, like one you would keep jewelry in, out of her case, opening it and placing it on the table, facing Winter. Inside, there rested a small ring, big enough it would have fit perfectly on Winter's finger, where she was unable to wear her wedding ring on missions. It was a strange material- silver carved so thinly and elegantly that it looked like glass, and a large, black stone on the center with two tiny emeralds on the sides, peering up at her like eyes. Winter frowned, before the Countess explained.

"Think of this as distribution of the contents of a will- the original owner of that ring admired you to a great extent. Unfortunately, before it even crossed my mind to come to Coruscant, she fell ill and died, and her last request was that this ring would be given to you if the opportunity ever presented itself. It seems as though Fate will have her final Wish be granted." The Countess told Winter, who cautiously removed the oddity from it's case, examining it.

"That sounds very sweet of her, but I can't say I'm very fond of jewelry..." She said, giving the piece a suspicious glance. The Countess smiled.

"There's a reason why it should belong to you- the girl who owned it believed it would serve you well in your work. Press the stone, if you would, but keep your fingers out of the way." She told Winter, who raised an eyebrow, but held the ring by it's circular base and pressed the stone, unable to hold her expression neutral as a small needle protruded from the ring, a droplet of colorless, odorless liquid oozing from it's tip.

Winter stared between the Countess and the ring, silently demanding an explanation.

"A famous queen on the planet that ring originated from used a great number of them in her day- she would either wear the ring herself and distribute poison through the drinks, or give the ring to her victim and they would be affected directly... and among her victims was even her own husband!" The Countess told her, but didn't stop for a response, "If you think it would suit your work when you would be required to go undercover, by all means, keep it. I was simply carrying out a request from a young girl's deathbed."

Winter pressed the stone again and the needle retracted before she gave the Countess a calculating glance.

"Suppose that I do not need such accessories- Would it be acceptable to pass on this gift to, shall we say, a woman in the military who is an assassin?" She asked. The Countess shrugged.

"That is of no concern to me- I'm a mere Wish-Granter, and it is not my place to make judgments about the Wishes of other people, or what those affected by my clients will do in their given circumstances." She replied, indifferently. Winter frowned, then pressed.

"In that case, would it be violating the Wishes of the girl who wanted me to have this ring to pass it on? I Wish to respect the dead." She insisted. The Countess gave her a cold look, but eventually conceded.

"I suppose... she would be... offended, if you gave it away..." She said, but didn't seem to care. Winter considered this, then slipped the ring onto her right middle finger so the needle would point away. The Countess watched this, before adding, "Though, I'm sure it would be perfectly acceptable for you to let people borrow it... say, your husband if he was going undercover as a Baron from a distant planet and would need something like a poisoned ring for self defense..." She offered, but Winter shook her head with a wry smile.

"Tycho would never accept, anyway- he had to go undercover for a mission for the Rogue Squadron as a telbun for a Kuati aristocrat. He swore that he would never pose as a member of nobility again." She replied, and the Countess seemed to appreciate the humor in this statement.

"Along those lines, Madame Winter, what is the custom of marriage on this planet?" The Countess asked, curiously, "I've been to several systems where it's typical for couples to marry simply for financial interests or political play- is there any tradition of that sort in this system?"

Winter stiffened, a little.

"It's been known to happen, occasionally, but it's highly frowned upon." She said, tersely, before the Countess pried, a little.

"Forgive me any impertinence, but I've heard a story about the Senator from some years ago- attempting to enter into an alliance with the Hapes Consortium, she almost married the Chume'da to that end. Please, correct me if I'm mistaken or out of line..." She asked, with some sense of urgency. Winter's eyebrow twitched, slightly, before she answered.

"The story is true- Leia almost did, but Han kidnapped her and demanded that she reconsider..." She answered, feeling more than upset with the idea of where this was going.

"What a unique way of courtship- perhaps it's a Correllian custom?" The Countess suggested, looking more than delighted with this prospect. Winter shook her head.

"No- Han was just jealous... and, I suppose, he thought it was something of a game or competition to win her heart..." And then Winter noted the peculiar way that the Countess was watching her, "I'm not saying I disapprove of Han's decision- He's a good husband for Leia, and I'm glad that she cares for him, but I still think his method was..." She paused to find a word, "Sloppy... and childish..."

"I didn't mean to intrude or cause agitation- I was simply curious if there was any truth in the story or if it was just a rumor among the lower classes..." The Countess said, holding up a hand as though to quell her hostess's anger. Winter stopped speaking, satisfied that she'd convinced the Countess of her false attitude, but somehow... uneasy that she'd said a little too much... some of her words had been a little too true, and, while she would normally never say them, this particular persona was necessary as a disguise for her true nature, if she was going to investigate this stranger.

"No- not at all... you asked for information, I was giving it to you the best I could- I was away on an assignment at the time, so I didn't see all the details first hand, but Leia told me all about it." Winter said, smiling disarmingly. The Countess's expression softened before she asked, in a practically conspiratorial whisper.

"This is a rather personal question I must ask... but what is it LIKE to be so closely connected with the Senator? I'm not asking anything about her... but how you two have such a close bond is quite a mystery to me..." She beseeched, taking Winter aback by the strange nature of her inquiry.

"You're asking for an account, not of her political career or endeavors, but of our friendship? And even then, simply asking for my opinion of it..."

"It must sound rather queer, I understand, but I'm embarrassed to say that I have precious few relationships of my own to reference in this instance... it's difficult to empathize without any information..." The Countess explained and Winter nodded.

"Well, it's difficult to describe... but I suppose the best way to put it is that we're so close to each other that we could switch places for a day and nobody would notice until the wigs came off... practically like twins, except... not..." Winter stumbled for a way to describe it without jeopardizing anything- Leia's safety came before hers, both as an important political figure, and as a rule of sensibility, but, at the same time, thinking about it was almost painful, as Winter hadn't ever truly prodded into the nature of her relationship with her adoptive sister. On one hand, they were close, that was certain... but there were still many things that they didn't know about each other, but that was natural... some things were personal and nobody's business, no matter how close they were. But there were so many times that Winter had pondered what constituted keeping a secret and what was personal...

"...It's a little complicated to describe..." She managed to convey that much, before the Countess's expression changed.

"Oh, if it's too much trouble, there's no need to put yourself out for my sake..." She offered, before she apparently took notice of a timepiece, "And I've completely lost track of time... I didn't mean to impose for so long..." The Countess stood and bowed, as Winter also stood, to escort her guest to the door.

"Not at all- thank you for bringing the medicine over, and I have to get rid of a few of these plants, anyway, now that I know they're poisonous..." Winter agreed, her fake smile in place. The Countess returned the gesture.

"That's a relief to hear- from what I understand, if a war does break out, Killiks have a method of forcing people to do things they normally wouldn't... some kind of biological warfare, an engineered disease..." The Countess agreed and, while Winter knew it wasn't true, she didn't contradict.

"That would be alarming, indeed..." She noted, before bidding goodbye.

"Goodbye, and thank YOU for taking such concern- I'm glad the seed I've sown hasn't fallen on barren ground." The Countess noted, putting her tall hat back on her head and touching the brim in a salute.

Winter didn't see her eye gleam in a predatory manner as she turned back to her hover car.

Tycho returned home only a few moments after the Countess left, to find his wife sitting at her table, staring blankly at her work, as though pondering a difficult quandary.

"Winter, honey- what's wrong?" He asked, putting his hands on her shoulders and massaging them.

Winter looked back up at her husband, before a warm touch came to her eyes.

"Nothing, dear." She reassured him, "I was merely contemplating a visit to the Solos..."

Her hand tightened around her pen, just a little.

* * *

As she returned to her house in the Works, the Countess pulled off her cape and hat, which were lightened from her hands by her steward, Gornash. He didn't waver as he saw his employer smile, icily.

"I wonder how well Madame Winter will take the test..." She pondered, out loud. Gornash's eyes remained impassive.

"Whose, Milady?" He asked, blandly. The Countess made a girlish little giggle in the back of her throat before standing on tiptoe and coyly planting an impersonal kiss on his cheek. Gornash didn't respond.

"Yours."

"Ah."

* * *

Ben stopped at the front door of the Countess's house, staring up at the high windows. He was glad to be back at the dwelling, especially after how he'd argued with his parents. He was still feeling bad tempered toward them and training with Jacen all week hadn't helped him- he was no better at controlling his empathy and a week of Jacen patiently trying to coax him along made him feel like he'd let his cousin down, every time he looked at Jacen, sheepishly and apologetically, saying he just couldn't do it, and always seeing Jacen's smile grow more and more strained before his hand extended to ruffle Ben's hair and reassure him it was alright.

He wanted to be better at his control, but just couldn't manage it...

With a heavy sigh, Ben entered the house as the Countess's steward opened the door.

"Her Excellency will be with you shortly- she is just returning from an excursion." The steward explained, bowing as he left Ben in a room- this one was a pale, but dulled yellow with a pattern of yellow orange flowers in the wallpaper... just bright enough that it emanated a warm, comfortable glow, but dulled enough that it wasn't blinding or painful to look at. The furniture was made of dark brown, gleaming, polished wood with wine colored cushions. A vase of pure white, sunburst flowers sat on a side table, nearby the only window in the room, which was covered in a lacy, off-white curtain that only let the selected best rays of daylight in to cast shadows or highlights. And next to the vase on the table was a small square frame that matched the wood of the furniture.

Ben walked over and leaned in, curiously, to examine the contents of what was inside the frame- it was an image, almost as though someone had taken a holophoto and translated it onto paper. This, alone was something Ben had never seen before, but the contents were intriguing enough that Ben couldn't help look closer.

The image was one of three people standing together. One was a young woman, only a little older than the Countess, or, at least, as old as she seemed. Her hair was short and dark and hung in her eyes, her face round in the cheeks, but tapered to a short point. Her face was smiling, and her unfocused eyes glittered with laughter, as her arms wrapped around the neck and shoulders of a boy who stood beside her, but she seemed to be trying to pull him to stand in front of her.

The boy looked like he was struggling against the woman's grip, but only half-heartedly- light-heartedly, even- and, Ben noted, with some shock, his features were almost identical to the woman's and he was only the littlest bit shorter than her.

Arms wrapped around the both of them, was the third figure in the background- a man, who almost looked to be too big and clumsy to even fit, as though he'd been crammed into the background at the last minute and had had his shoulders squashed because of it. He seemed awkward- his hands were too big and his fingers were long, while his arms seemed like some kind of enormous snake, made purely out of muscle and no discernible bone and his face was narrow. His eyes seemed to bore out of the picture, directly into Ben's, and he could have sworn he'd seen that combination of pure, shock white hair and emerald green eyes somewhere before. The man was also smiling, but his face was covered with lines of age and scars, as though he'd been tortured, that made him somehow a combination of unpleasant to look at, and bearable to see as a hero or soldier, but either way, steadfast.

A hand appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the top of the frame, and turned it down, face down on the picture.

Ben jumped and spun around to see the Countess directly behind him, smiling eerily.

"Good little boys don't spy." She said, icily, and Ben took the hint, accepting the seat she offered him without a word and keeping perfectly silent until he was spoken to, feeling a distinct edge of unease at the Countess's brief moment of actually being peeved at him.

"Sieur Ben, it's winter in here yet- or has something happened to damage your tongue enough that you cannot talk?" The Countess finally asked, and Ben blushed, a little, stammering an apology.

"I... I was just..." But she seemed to understand and didn't press, changing the topic.

"How has your empathy been, lately? You haven't had any seizures lately, have you?" The Countess asked, as her steward brought in a tray of hot drinks. Ben looked at the floor, ashamed.

"It's... it's been okay..." He said, quietly, and then explained, "I haven't had any seizures or spasms... and I've been working on it lately... so..." Ben stopped talking as he heard a splash from across the table. There were three drops of the brown liquid in the cups shining on the surface, but the Countess acted as though they weren't there, pushing one of the cups across the table's surface.

"...You'll be upset with me for asking this... but have you not had seizures because of your empathy or other people's emotions... or because of the medicine I gave you?" The Countess asked, with a very severe expression, and Ben had to admit, he almost felt bad having to admit it.

"...Well... to be honest... it's the medicine..." He confessed, but looked up again, quickly, "But... it's very helpful- there are some days when I'm almost overwhelmed with other people's emotions, when I almost think I'm going to be sick because they all come flooding in, and the medicine makes me feel so much better... almost like before I ever started having this..." He didn't want to say 'Problem'... partly because he didn't want to sound like he was feeling sorry for himself, but also because he remembered he was in the presence of the older sister of Jacci.

The Countess had a look on her face as though Ben had just uttered a disgusting swear, but it only remained in place for a second, barely long enough for Ben to even know if it had been real or imagined.

"You said you've been 'working on it'... might I ask what that entails?" She asked, calmly, and Ben was grateful for the gracious, accepting attitude.

"I've been learning how to close my mind from other people's emotions... my cousin, Jacen... he's been training me a little, but I'm not really his apprentice or anything..." Ben supplied, and the Countess didn't interrupt, "He's been trying all week to help me improve... even though I'm not very good at it... Jacen came up with a really good metaphor for my empathy, and he's been trying to use it to help me control it..." Ben concentrated, trying to remember exactly how Jacen had put it- it sounded so well put when Jacen had said it, "...That... my empathy is like a water faucet... and it's always on full blast... so I tried to stop it by putting a plug in it, but there's a hole in the plug... so all the water keeps coming through, anyway... and what Jacen's trying to train me to do is how to somehow find the knob which turns off the water altogether, so I don't even need the plug..." Ben explained, glad the Countess was taking interest in this, "...But, like I said, I'm pretty lousy at it..."

"There might be a reason for that..." The Countess mused, though she seemed to be talking more to herself, "You used the word 'apprentice' when you described your training." Ben looked away, sheepishly.

"...But... I'm not REALLY an apprentice... I mean... you can't train someone to be a Jedi if they aren't Force-sensitive or don't believe in the Jedi Way, so..." He replied, sidestepping the issue a little, but the Countess's eyes widened, surprised.

"You can't use the Force? That's unexpected..." She asked, and Ben's eyes darkened.

"...It's not so much that I can't... I don't WANT to use the Force..." Ben replied, without even thinking, and the Countess didn't reply, "...My parents... every time I remind them that I won't use the Force, or they remember... they act as if the bloody sky is falling..." The Countess's eyes flashed, and Ben stopped, "...Sorry, I didn't mean to swear... But it's so... They act as if I'll DIE if I don't open myself up to the Force... like it's such a big deal... but there are other people in this galaxy... and they all believe in the Force just as much as any Jedi, maybe even more, but they can't USE it... what right do Jedi have to have an advantage like that over people who are so-called ordinary?" Ben seemed to be honestly asking her for an answer, but the Countess didn't have one.

"And, yet, Sieur Jacen is training you?" She asked, confused, and Ben laughed.

"...It's... it's different with Jacen... He doesn't really train me in the Force... he just... teaches me, kind of... just... about general things, like... physical training... and stuff... It's kinda hard to explain... but there's a word for it- I know that..." Ben mused, before noting that the Countess had taken a sip of the now warm drink she'd poured earlier, prompting him to drink his own- it smelled like a thick, creamy fruit juice, but was as brown as ryshcate, and tasted like honey, nuts, milk, and so many other warm, comforting, familiar things...

"Comfortable- that's the word! Being around Jacen... makes me feel like it's easier to breathe... like my specific niche in the universe has been expanded, just a little, to give me some elbow room... and with my empathy... I still feel other people's emotions, plain as day... but Jacen... almost acts like a filter... like he purifies the water, or adds some flavor to it so... even if all that water is still cascading from the faucet, it's not as bitter to swallow..." Ben smiled a little as he explained, "When I was a kid, I wanted to be like my Uncle Han... but... now, I look at Jacen and think 'I wanna be like THAT!'... It might even be worth using the Force... once in a while..."

The Countess' foot tapped against the floor, as though she were pondering something.

"Did you want to say something?" Ben asked, putting his cup down. The Countess looked up from her own, smiling a little.

"I did have a question to ask you- concerning your training to handle your empathy..." She replied, amiably, and Ben smiled, eyes brightening with understanding.

"Oh, right- because Jacci also... you're trying to find a way to help her..." He asked, but the Countess's confused look cut him off.

"Actually, Jacci has pretty good control over her empathy- it's you I'm concerned about..." Ben started to blush.

"...Me?"

"Please- just answer my questions, and the reason will become clear of it's own accord." Ben quieted, then nodded, "You said that Sieur Jacen used a metaphor to assist your training- is that so?"

"Yes..."

"And his precise words to describe your empathy were 'as a water faucet'?"

"That's right..."

"And the emotions that you feel are the water which comes pouring into your soul without stop?"

"Yes..."

"So, Sieur Jacen's solution is to stop water from reaching the faucet completely by stopping the water source?"

"...Pretty much..."

The Countess's expression turned serious, almost grave, but she was silent as she pondered the information, until Ben asked what was wrong.

"Your cousin chose an apt metaphor... one that I wouldn't have thought of if set to think about it..." She mused, before looking at Ben, a little more calmly, "Now, to take it a little further, a little more literally, Sieur Ben, what could you tell me about water?"

Ben frowned at the unusual request, but thought about it before answering.

"...Well... I know that it's the only substance that is found, naturally, in all three forms- a gas in the clouds, a liquid in bodies of water, and a solid in ice... On a lot of planets, only 10 of the water on the surface is drinkable... It's one of the few elements that, when frozen into a solid, it expands instead of shrinking..."

"Think more in it's relationship to humans, specifically..." She prompted. Ben paused, then gave it more consideration.

"...I think... I've heard some different statistics about how the human body is composed of water, from 60 to 80... And humans need to drink a lot of it every day or else they dehydrate..." Ben saw the the Countess's face twitch, and he knew he'd reached the factoid that she'd been thinking of.

"How soon does a person die of dehydration, compared to starvation? Do you know?" She asked, and Ben shifted, uncomfortably.

"...Well, I've read that some humans, depending on their build and such, can survive for weeks, sometimes a month or so, without food... but without water, a human can die in just a few days..."

"Precisely." Was all the Countess said, but Ben understood all that it conveyed.

"...So, you're saying that... just like humans need water... I need to LET other people's emotions... in?" He asked, skeptically, "...Or else, I can't survive?"

The Countess shrugged.

"Not necessarily your physical health... but certainly in terms of your spiritual, and almost positively, psychological well being. And, unlike virtually all other people today, you have the connection to pure, undiluted emotion. The closest most others can come is logical understanding and a sympathetic feeling- not to downplay those traits, as that is often the closest they CAN come, through no fault of their own..."

Ben said nothing, but considered it.

"Still, to shut it out completely..." The Countess's nostrils flared, "...That would be very foolish..."

Ben stiffened, sensing an indirect insult aimed at Jacen, before he cleared his throat.

"Countess... with all due respect... I understand that you disagree with Jacen on a great deal of topics and that he isn't welcome in this house because of that... but please refrain from remarks that border on insulting opinions." He said, in a stern manner of a child reminding their parent not to swear. The Countess showed no surprise at his tone, but her eyes were wide as she blinked, owlishly, at Ben for his choice of words. Ben was, thus, unprepared for her less than relevant reaction.

"Every time we have a serious conversation, I'm astounded by the apparent thesaurus you must have swallowed at a young age..." She said, sounding honestly impressed, while Ben's eyebrow twitched, "But, in any case..." The Countess's attitude changed, "There still leaves the issue that you're still learning how to control your empathy..."

Ben didn't reply, before the Countess finally said,

"Just remember this, next time you're training with your cousin- a water tap cut off from water is useless when you're thirsty."

Ben, whom had reached for his cup again, grunted until his mouth was clear to speak.

"Countess... you put so much emphasis on empathy... is there something about it that makes it so important in your eyes?" He asked when he set his cup down. The Countess swirled her drink, but did not sip it, her expression distant, almost moody.

"Empathy... the ability or trait to feel the emotions of another person..." She mused, closing her eyes briefly to chose her words, "Is one of the most essential things necessary for a society to function peacefully."

Ben looked up to see her eyes glazed over and distant.

"Precious things are destroyed... People important to us are hurt... Wars are started... because the feelings of someone else are misunderstood... not considered... or simply treated as though they don't exist..."

"I remember reading something about the world the Gotals come from once- I'd asked Jacen why my dad was so quirky whenever he saw someone with headcones, and he told me to look it up- and I read that on their planet, laws aren't necessary, because Gotals have natural empathy and so they almost never commit crimes that hurt other people... and that to have headcones that don't work essentially makes you a psychopath..." Ben said, vaguely trying to sort through his memories to find specific details.

"And yet, on a planet like this... if a man IS able to connect with others... he's considered weak: Empathy is for WOMEN- a REAL MAN has to be strong and tough... able to do horrible things, even hurt, kill, or rape, without a second thought or care... otherwise he's a baby... a coward... a weakling..." The Countess put in, pulling out one of her long smoking chunks and lighting it, breathing in the smoke with an expression that almost looked like a sarcastic sneer, but might just have been something from the drug.

"Why, though?" Ben asked, partially unable to comprehend the idea because the antagonism was against him in this case, but also partially because he wasn't used to not feeling other people's emotions, it seemed natural to need them.

"Humans, as a general rule, are always hostile to anyone or anything that has something they want. If a species has superior technology to Humans, they will hate and loathe the species until they've conquered them, or an alliance is made, allowing Humans to access the secrets of their success. The same holds true of Humans attitude to fellow Humans- whole people have been killed or enslaved for the land they live on or resources or crops. Humans will, almost always, without fail, generalize, ostracize, isolate, and persecute other people who have abilities that they wish they had, but can't manage to have without a little effort." The Countess explained, smoke furling from her lips as she spoke, and Ben sat up a little straighter as he could have sworn he heard something. His ears were alert, but in the end, he supposed he must have imagined the flicker of the Countess's shadow into a different form and the sound of a cape rustling.

"That's true..." Ben finally said, looking away, somewhat defeatedly, "But... it doesn't seem RIGHT..."

"It doesn't, this is true." The Countess agreed, but said nothing else.

"But WHY? Why is it so bad to be able to empathize? Why do Humans have to be so horrible to other people like that? Why do people have to be envious of other people?" Ben finally burst out, not able to find an answer. The Countess gave him a confused glance, but answered,

"I can only tell you the answer to the first two questions- those are collective traits decided on by the people. It's what they made for themselves." She replied. Ben's nostrils flared with dissatisfaction.

"Nobody asked ME! Or YOU! If it's something 'The people' decide on, ALL of them should have some say!" Ben insisted.

The Countess stared at him, as though he'd just suggested an idea that would cure a fatal disease, before she smiled, kindly, but sadly.

"Unfortunately, this isn't a choice like a democratic vote... however... to revolutionize a cultures values... sometimes takes a single person to spark it on..."

"Then, I'LL be that spark!" Ben declared, shooting out of his seat before he remembered he was a guest in the house, blushed, and sat back down. The Countess said nothing to voice displeasure, but her eyes did not break from following his movement, before she smiled, eerily.

"Feelings of hatred... feelings of jealousy... feelings of resentment... all of those things could very well be the root of all injustice in the world, as we know it..." She mused, before looking up and making a disgusted noise, "Sieur Ben, I'm sorry, but there's a customer downstairs I must attend to- why don't you pay Jacci a visit until you're needed back home?"

Ben brightened and managed to leave the room tactfully, at the same time that the Countess left to her business. Jacci made herself present quickly, as she'd been hiding outside the door.

' ' Let's go and see what Ne-Ni-Kaa's doing ' ' Jacci's hand immediately clasped onto his and demanded, which Ben did not argue with as he followed Jacci tugging him in the direction of the room that the Countess received customers. In that room, Ben peered through the gate again, not managing to glimpse the Countess, but seeing perfectly well the woman who had come to her business.

The woman was young and a little pretty- her hair was neat and held up in a fashion that accented her face, her eyes were a calm color, and she wore her simple dress so it flattered her figure, but all of these features were offset by how pale her skin was, how she had too much makeup on, how her arms and legs were too thin and fragile looking as they poked out of her dress. It was a kind of sickly beauty, and she would have undoubtedly been much prettier if she'd been healthy.

"You have a Wish for me to grant?" The Countess's voice asked from wherever she was. The woman shyly looked up from the table, where she'd apparently been examining the less than interesting pattern in the wood grain and spoke, hesitantly.

"...I... I'm not sure..." She said, timidly, and Ben thought her voice sounded nice enough that, if she had some water to drink and some proper food to give her strength, she would be great to talk and listen to, maybe she could even sing well. The Countess didn't say anything, but let the woman continue, "...It's... not really much of a wish but..."

"Not 'wish', dear, but 'Wish'." The Countess said, gently. The woman blinked, not seeming to understand, but she didn't say anything about it.

"Well... I've done about all I can... so far... I've asked my friends, I've asked professionals, I've asked everyone who I can think of... but none of them really can do anything..."

"Please be more direct, mademoiselle." The Countess finally said, "I possess neither the ability to read your mind nor all the hours of today to wait."

The woman laughed, blushing and putting a more healthy tinge back into her cheeks.

"...W-well..." She whispered, hesitantly, "...It's hard to put into words... but... um..." The woman paused, trying to find the words, before she managed to say, "...It's about... a person..."

Ben's fingers poked through the holes in the wall as he gripped it in his intensity.

' ' Do you think she's also got a sick relative ? ' ' He asked Jacci with his hand, but Jacci's expression, when he turned to look at her, was very displeased.

' ' No ' '

' ' What makes you say that ? ' '

' ' She's a woman ' ' Jacci's hand replied, as though it should have been perfectly obvious. Ben shot her a curious glance, but continued to listen, intently.

"A person?" The Countess had asked. The young woman was blushing again and then the Countess asked a second question, "A... man, you mean?"

The woman giggled, as though trying to be girlish, but it sounded strained, but she nodded as she tried to stifle it. The Countess's expression was impossible to see, still, but her silhouette was visible now, compared to before.

"I see." She said, simply. The woman composed herself, enough that she spoke up again.

"It's not what you're thinking- I've read those stories about people who just want someone else to notice them and the way that they get what they want is they embarrass themselves and the other person only pays attention to them when they make a fool out of themselves... I don't want him to just notice me!"

The Countess didn't say anything.

"What IS your Wish, then?" The Countess asked, and the woman shifted, uncomfortably.

"...I'm not sure if he NOTICES me... but... since that's something I know how to deal with... I want... I want to have some way to be sure that... once he notices me... that he LIKES me... even if it's just as a friend or just as another, nice girl..." The woman explained.

The Countess's silhouette rose, as she stood, walked over to a set of drawers protruding from the wall. She slid it open without a sound and retrieved two small bags from inside. They were both made of the same material and held shut with golden cords, but one was blue and one was red.

The woman who was the Countess's customer gave her an unusual glance.

"What are these?" She asked, frowning a little. The Countess held out the two bags in both of her hands.

"You must make the choice, but I will tell you what will happen if you take one or the other..." The Countess explained and the woman- along with Ben and Jacci- listened, intently.

"The red bag..." The Countess held it up, "Will grant your Wish." She lowered it, "But the blue bag..." She lifted the hand with the bag in it, "Will make you happy."

The woman frowned a little, but immediately reached over and grabbed the red bag.

"But, if my wish is granted, then I'll be happy." She said, almost as though she were talking to herself. The Countess didn't reply.

"It's 'Wish', dear- it's different from 'wish'." The Countess simply said, putting the other bag back in the drawer. The woman ignored her, until the Countess pushed a piece of paper across the table.

"These are the instructions you must follow if you want your Wish to come true. And, if you wouldn't mind, please sign it."

The woman frowned a little, but signed quickly before standing up and leaving with a copy. The Countess didn't make any move to stop her, even though Ben had heard no discussion of payment.

As soon as the woman was gone, the Countess turned and stared straight at them.

"I know you two are there- come out." She said, sharply. Her expression had been completely hidden behind the shadows that the wall had created, but now, it was plain to see her annoyance. Jacci had little difficulty pulling Ben out into the open, as they'd been instructed. Ben did his best not to look too guilty as the Countess made a noise through her nostrils to voice her irritation, but in the end, she said nothing.

"When you see that woman again, take note of how different she is." The Countess finally told Ben, who frowned, but didn't argue, despite the fact that he knew, with a city as big as Coruscant, he would never see that woman again.

"Why don't you go home for today, and ponder that question you asked me about why people feel the need to be envious?" The Countess finally suggested, not waiting for an answer, "Jacci, you walk him to the door- I won't spy on you two having your sweet goodbye."

Ben turned pink. Jacci turned red and stuck her tongue out, but did as she was told, not saying anything.

A/N: Whoo- It's been a while since I updated, I realize, but classes are starting up again and they LOAD us with homework... and I'm taking 17 credits (hours). So, essentially, I'm hip deep in work, and had a major layoff of my muse. Now, however, I've finally gotten this chapter done.

Write and tell me what you think! These chapters are a pain to write, especially how long they are. But don't worry- absolutely everything has a purpose, with absolutely no fillers.


	9. Chapter 8

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: It's been a while- 'scuse me if I'm rusty. And, if anyone could give me details about the Swarm War, I'd appreciate it, if only because I'd blow it all to hell.

Chapter 8:

Jaina did not sleep well that night. Perhaps this was what people called an out of body experience... She felt like she was flying through her dream, flying through the stars, in space, without a destination.

She felt lost, for a moment, before the planets before her looked familiar.

She was in the Unknown Regions, again. Somewhere down on the planet's surface, she could feel the screaming, as though it came from hundreds of people and the feeling of a hand pulling her down, while a voice whispered in her ears to both go forward and go back.

Flashes of faces appeared before her eyes, as though the world was zooming past, beyond any speed imaginable, but she saw the faces clearly enough, even if it was impossible to see anything but the barest details to identify them.

Jacen, Anakin, Ben, her father, her Uncle Luke, her Aunt Mara, Master Durron, Jag, Zekk...

Then her mother...

Then, Jaina woke up.

Maybe she should talk to her mother, sometime in the near future...

* * *

Ben followed Jacen around the streets, for once enjoying the ability to wander among crowds and not be affected by the emotions of every last person who passed them by. During the carnival on Ord Mantell, the lack of humans and the fact that most everyone was drunk, merry, and gay had simply been like a buzz on his senses. Normally, however, being in large groups of humans who had little or no control over their emotions would give him headaches to rival a migraine.

Halfway through their training, Jacen had said to call it quits for the day and that he wanted to help Ben practice his empathy control by seeing how well it worked out in a crowd.

It had worked... after a fashion, as Ben had considered, not stopping it, but trying to make it slow down or simply decrease the volume of emotions.

While he still felt the fuzzy edges of most every Human for about a forty meter radius, it wasn't as intense anymore. He no longer had the intense, smashing force of every emotion crushing him, like a waterfall did it's rocks at the bottom of the slope. There was a dam in place and Ben could, for once, hear himself think in the presence of other Humans.

Jacen tapped on the back of Ben's head, drawing his attention back to the present.

"So, is your empathy bothering you, anymore?" Jacen asked, ruffling Ben's hair. Ben grinned.

"Not anymore. I still feel people's emotions, but it's not as bad as before. I think you helped me get it mostly under control." Ben replied, and Jacen's expression melted into a smile almost instantly.

"Why do you ask?" Ben pressed, while Jacen looked away.

"Because... I think I'm going to be leaving, soon..." He answered, not reacting as Ben literally tripped over his own feet, "I've been sensing some disturbances in the Force, lately... and they're calling me back to the Unknown Regions..." Ben stopped in his tracks.

"The Unknown Regions...?" He asked, but Jacen shrugged and laughed it off.

"It's just a feeling, and it might not happen, but just in case, I wanted to be sure you were able to handle at least that much on your own before I left." He explained, and didn't talk about it for the rest of the day, "Now... what else is there to do..." Jacen pondered, but Ben didn't listen.

A face in the crowd on the other side of the street had caught his attention, and he felt a shiver go up his spine.

It was the woman.

Ben couldn't help but stare, even as Jacen tapped him on the head and asked what was wrong.

"It's her..." Ben muttered, before Jacen followed his line of sight, frowning.

"You know her?" He asked, but Ben shook his head.

"She was a customer of the Countess's when I was there two days ago... And she told me that when I saw that woman again, to note how she had changed..." Ben muttered, almost to himself, still somewhat in shock that he was seeing her again.

"And you figured, since Coruscant is so big and crowded, you probably wouldn't see her again..." Jacen surmised, looking up again, then looking down, "Well... how IS she different?"

Ben shrugged- in all honesty, the woman hadn't changed that much, as far as he could tell: Skin still pasty and over done in cosmetics, body still so thin she looked as though she'd be blown away at the slightest breeze, hair still well kept, and eyes still soft and still smiling. But then, Ben looked again and realized that she was standing next to a man who wasn't just some stranger on the street, but apparently someone related- He was tall, broad shouldered, and somewhat handsome, but paying no apparent attention to the woman who was standing at his side like a dog loyal to it's owner, in fact, he was talking with another man.

"She said that her wish involved another person... looks like that's him..." Ben heard Jacen sigh, then put a hand on his shoulder.

"So, she got her wish- yay for her, let's go." He said, pulling Ben from his spot and dragging him across the walkway to the other side. Inwardly, Ben was wondering if Jacen really wanted to get a closer look and was just not saying it, or if it was just coincidence that they were going in this direction.

Jacen kept pulling, asking Ben questions about his other, growing abilities, and Ben gave short 'yes' and 'no' answers, most of his attention distracted because his empathy had come back, full force this time. Maybe he wasn't concentrating on it enough, but he felt this sense of great pain and agony, but restraint and suppression, as though someone was trying to tell themselves to eat poison, even though they knew what it was and knew it was bad for them, but was also trying to force themselves to enjoy it.

Then, Ben realized, it was getting stronger with every step they took towards the woman and the man she was with. Jacen paused, then looked back at his cousin, flicking his forehead with two fingers.

"Ben, are you feeling okay?" He asked. Ben tried to smile, but a wave of nausea hit him.

"I'm... just feeling a little sick..." He muttered. Jacen frowned.

"Is your empathy bothering you again? I thought you had it under control."

"I thought so, too..." Ben said between clenched teeth, before Jacen steered him out of the main flow of pedestrians.

"Maybe you should take a moment to recenter your concentration." Jacen suggested, while Ben tried not to gag. They were right within earshot of the woman and the two men who were talking on the side.

"So, who's the cute little thing?" One was asking the other, whom the woman had been following around. The man put a hand on the woman's shoulder and Ben doubled over as a pain assaulted his head.

"Just some chick. She started following me around and whenever I ask her to do something, she does it without even complaining." Ben put a hand over his mouth to keep from retching, before he felt Jacen's hand on his shoulder, trying to coax him out of it.

"Sweet deal. What's the catch?" Ben's ears were aching, as though some high-pitched squealing was reverberating in his eardrums.

"No catch- that's the best part. I don't have to feed her, she doesn't bug me for dates or gifts or anything like other girls do, and she doesn't even talk! It's like the perfect girl!"

:: Why don't you love me ::

"Ben, take a deep breath- your face is going red." Jacen's voice sounded distant, like he was hearing it from behind a closed door or three. Ben did his best to breathe, but his lungs were burning. Jacen patted his back a little, but it didn't block out the voices from right next to them, which seemed as though someone had amplified their voices and toned down the volume of everyone else, but for his ears alone.

"Watch- I can tell her to jump off the ledge right now, and she'll do it."

:: Anything anything anything anything just love me ::

"Jacen, stop them!" Ben hissed, gagging as his stomach twisted, and the utter agony of the woman right across the way shot up and down his spine like an electric shock.

"Stop who? What are you talking about?" Jacen's voice had grown small, but it was still clear.

"You're shitting me!"

"Seriously! Right now..." Ben's head shot up and he almost blacked out as white flashed before his eyes, then spots before his sight cleared up.

"Don't!" Ben tried to reach up, but his arm felt stiff and his voice felt choked- Ben wouldn't have been surprised if he wasn't even loud enough for even Jacen to hear. He felt a hand on his shoulder and one holding his wrist.

"Ben, who are you talking to?"

"Jump off the ledge." And immediately, Ben felt something else- panic and fear, coming in from all sides.

"AAAAHHH! SOMEBODY JUMPED!" Then there was a loud thud, crash, and the emotions of the woman were all gone, leaving only the panic and disorder from all the onlookers who had just witnessed the event.

Ben curled into a ball and threw up, before Jacen pulled him to his feet. Ben's vision cleared enough that he could see the look on Jacen's face.

"She knew about this..." He hissed, before Ben was grabbed by the wrist and dragged away.

"Jacen... what are..." Ben managed, but Jacen didn't look back.

"That Countess KNEW about this. We're going to see her." Jacen snapped, pulling Ben in the direction of the Works.

* * *

"She's in the greenhouse, but you'll be thrown out." The steward told Jacen as he barged in the door that the Countess used to receive customers. Jacen ignored the steward and went straight ahead to the greenhouse.

The Countess was reclining on the floor against a long divan, one arm encircling her head in a relaxed pose and her black, silken, robe-like dress parted where her knees bent, while Haid sat on the divan, deux chorde resting against her knees as her flowery dress trailed on the floor. Jacen marched to a halt in front of her, more than annoyed at how the Countess's eyes remained closed, until Haid stopped playing and singing.

"Sieur Jacen, you are not welcome here." The Countess's eyes still did not open. Jacen scowled.

"You knew." He snarled at her. The Countess sat up a little and rested her chin on the back of her hand as her elbow supported it.

"What could be so important that you felt the need to barge in?" The Countess asked, lightly, as though they were discussing the weather. Jacen's expression didn't lighten.

"You KNEW." He repeated. The Countess sighed, bored.

"About what?" She repeated. Jacen ground his teeth, before Ben interrupted.

"A little while ago, that woman who came to your house a few days ago jumped off the walking platform... we were there..." Ben stammered, but the Countess took no interest in this statement.

"And?" She asked, but this only fueled Jacen's temper.

"YOU KNEW!" He finally shouted. Haid even jumped, recoiling against the back of the divan, as though afraid Jacen might attack. The Countess's eyes opened, flashing silver again, before she rose. Even as short as she was, she seemed to be imposing as she stood with majesty and power like a queen who had personally taken up sword in many, many wars.

"Leave, Sieur Jacen. You are upsetting Haid, and not welcome here in the first place." The Countess's voice was soft, but so firm and so blunt that it could not be mistaken for anything BUT commanding. Jacen's voice caught in his throat, but he didn't move, until the Countess took two steps towards him and made a gesture with her arm that sent Jacen across the room.

"Leave, little boy." She ordered, marching Jacen to the door, leaving Ben awkwardly alone with Haid. It wasn't that he didn't like the woman, not since he'd only met her once, but something about her unnerved him. Ben looked around for a moment, before Haid patted the seat on the divan next to her, offering him to sit.

"So..." Ben finally said to break the silence, while Haid adjusted the strings on her deux chorde. He couldn't think of anything to say after that, but Haid didn't seem to mind, until Ben finally asked her a question.

"...Miss Haid... there's something that I've been meaning to ask you from the first time we met..." He said, Haid turning and giving him a surprised look.

"Oh?" She asked, curiously. Ben's face was a little pink but he managed to ask, anyway.

"...You said something about me, after we met last time..." Ben said, deciding on that to be the best place to start. Haid said nothing, but continued to listen, "About... something Jacci told you..." Haid tipped her head for a moment, pondering, then nodded.

"I remember." Ben's face was very red by now, while he tried to find a way to ask without sounding like he was digging for compliments.

"...What did you mean by that?" He asked, finally. Haid continued to adjust the strings, giving the question due consideration.

"Well... for one thing, it means that Jacci-shaku thinks very highly of you..." Haid said, slowly, "...And Shaku-sama speaks of you, often... You are someone who has earned respect in their eyes." Ben's face was going redder and redder by the moment, but he finally stammered something out.

"...I'm sorry, Miss Haid... I meant... could you define... the words you used? Such as... why you said that to only me and not Jaina or Jacen, when they were acting the same way?" Haid's hands paused in their tuning of her instrument and she gave Ben the most peculiar look, before smiling and looking away.

"That's something you must define for yourself." She answered, "Shaku-sama told me that... when someone is a good person... they must learn for themselves what that means, and then work to their own definition... otherwise, it's useless knowledge."

"I see..." Ben mumbled, then thought of something else to say to keep the awkward silence broken, "...Um... you play your instrument very well..."

"Thank you."

"...Does the Countess listen to you often?"

"Occasionally... but mostly when I say I've composed something new... that's not very often." Haid admitted.

"Oh..." Ben muttered, before the Countess returned.

"Haid, if you don't mind, I need to speak with Sieur Ben in private- I'll be back when we are finished." The Countess said, inclining her head slightly to Haid, who seemed to accept this with ease, "Sa- let's go." The Countess offered Ben a hand and pulled him to his feet.

* * *

"Hit by a hovercar... I see..." The Countess mused, leaning on the arm of the couch, legs curled up on the rest of the seats, like she was planning to sleep there. Ben's hands were clasped on his knees, as he stared at them, perched on the very edge of the chair that was across from the couch in the large, twilight colored room the Countess had moved him into.

"...But it wouldn't have happened if that man hadn't told her to jump off..." Ben muttered, at last. The Countess gave him a severe look.

"Is that so?" She asked, and Ben frowned, opening his mouth to argue, "Couldn't she have just refused to do as he told her? Did that man PUSH her? Or threaten her? Or did he just tell her to do something and she obeyed, blindly?" Ben's mouth closed.

"When you left, I told you that woman would be different from that day." The Countess continued, eyes fixated on Ben's face, "What did you notice different about her, today?"

Ben blinked, then gave the matter due consideration.

"...Well... she looked a little sicker than she did when she'd come here for your help..." He conceded, "...And... she was really quiet..."

"Why do you suppose that was?" The Countess asked, taking out a smoking chunk and lighting it. Ben frowned, but then the realization dawned.

"Well... the man who she was with... said that he didn't need to feed her... and that she never asked for gifts or dates... So... did she stop taking care of herself?" Ben asked, remembering the conversation he'd heard, even if nobody else seemed to have heard it.

"Yes and no." The Countess replied, sitting up a little more, "That woman did only what she was told to do by that man, and nothing more or less." Ben couldn't help but stare.

"But... what about eating? And sleeping? You mean she only would have done those things if he told her to?" He asked, completely unbelieving. The Countess didn't even twitch, nodding very seriously, "But... but..." Ben fumbled for words, "But WHY?"

Smoke unfurled from the Countess's lips as she replied,

"Because that was her Wish." Ben's jaw dropped, just the littlest bit, "She wanted that person to care for her, and being a tool that was obedient and useful and would neglect herself unless he told her not to was the only way that he would like her, because he has no respect for women, or other people. True love and affection... were impossible to gain from him." The Countess explained as Ben slumped backwards a little, head hitting the back of his chair.

"But... I can't believe that someone would accept a life that degrading..." He whispered. The Countess gave him a hard look, before she pulled something out of the table behind her.

It was a piece of paper.

"Read this. It's a copy of the contract that she signed when I gave her that red bag." The Countess instructed. Ben took the paper and almost gagged at the first line.

_I hereby agree to the conditions listed below, understanding that only under these requirements my desire will be fulfilled. I understand that the terms below are regarded to me, alone, that the party who I Wish to love me shall be referred to as The Man, and that my party is The Woman_

_1: The Woman shall only be obedient to The Man- The Woman shall do only what The Man instructs, nothing less and nothing more, and only his orders._

_2: The Woman shall remain silent, unless given specific permission to speak- If necessary, The Woman shall remove ability to speak, if desired by The Man._

_3: The Woman shall forfeit all property and possessions to be under the control of The Man- The Man shall be the one to control the financial matters and not to be disagreed with._

_4: The Woman shall submit to any and all-_

Ben's hands twitched so violently that the paper crumbled. The Countess reached across the table and tugged the paper free from Ben's hands, almost tearing it in the process as Ben was so shaken by what he'd read.

After a moment of silence, Ben slammed his hands down on the table.

"HOW COULD ANYONE AGREE TO THAT?" He asked, but in a voice that was so shaky that it almost sounded like he was asking himself. The Countess obliged, anyway.

"Millions of women do- every day." She replied. Ben grit his teeth.

"But it's so DEGRADING! How could anyone be happy like that?"

"It's not a matter of happiness- really, it's simply a matter of wanting to appear happy. Of wanting to fit in, and be like other people. That woman thought that if her Wish was granted, she would be happy. It never occurred to her that she could be unhappy if that person recognized her. It's the same for all who enter into these contracts." The Countess's voice was soft, and distant, as though she was recalling something far away and unpleasant. Ben frowned at her, before asking, hesitantly.

"All? You mean... you've had other people come to you with..." He asked, but the Countess shook her head.

"No. This woman was my first case like that." She replied. Ben frowned, even further, but the Countess didn't remark.

"Then... what do you mean 'All'? You say that as though you've seen other times like this..." He insisted, but the Countess didn't answer, and eventually, Ben sighed, "...Countess... what was in that bag that she picked out?"

The Countess reached behind her again and pulled out, much to Ben's surprise, the same red bag.

"Things to help her keep that contract." The Countess said, simply, dropping it and letting the contents spill out- an empty flask that had been labeled as a high concentrated acid, a box of pills to speed up metabolism, a jar of cream, and a series of other things that Ben didn't understand, "Some points of that agreement would be difficult to keep, even with the proper extent of will and determination."

Ben stared for a long time at the empty bag, but in the end, didn't say anything.

"What was her price? I don't remember her giving you anything..." He asked, confused. The Countess shrugged.

"If you must say she gave me something, she gave me this signature of hers..." The Countess waved the piece of paper, "But the price that she paid wasn't to me or that man or anyone in particular... really, what she paid for her Wish was a piece of her soul... her self-respect... her dignity... she gave up all these things in order to make that Wish possible."

"How could someone DO this to themselves?" Ben muttered, at last, almost as though it was something personal. The Countess's gaze remained impassive.

"I wonder." Was all she said.

Ben was silent for a long time, before the Countess spoke up again.

"When you saw this happen..." Ben looked up, "...You'd heard them speaking... Did anyone else seem to hear their conversation?" The Countess asked. Ben blinked for a moment, then shook his head.

"No... Nobody... I even told Jacen... to stop them... and called out for the woman to not do it..." He said, quietly, "...But... Jacen asked who I was talking to, or about... it was like he couldn't hear them..." Then, a thought occurred to Ben, "...Do you mean... that I didn't really hear the conversation? That, maybe... it never happened? That the two men weren't really there or something like that?" He asked, feeling a small stir of hope, even if it was morbidly so. The Countess's expression softened, but more as though she was bracing herself to say something difficult.

"No. That conversation definitely happened- those two men were real, and their words were spoken." The Countess said, her eyes warm and comforting, "And you were not the only one to witness the event. No- the conversation you heard and saw was as real as the fact that you sit before me, and I before you." Ben felt a very cold sensation go up his spine, "Rather, instead of that nobody else heard their conversation, nobody cared."

Ben blinked, staring at the Countess's face for any indicator that she was joking. There was none.

"The words they said... the meanings they implied... and the sordid truth behind them..." The Countess explained, as though in a soliloquy, "People have simply lost their ability to care. They will pass by, ignorant, or pretending to be, looking the other way, for their own comfort."

"Is that because people aren't able to empathize with others?" Ben asked, remembering their recent conversation. The Countess's expression was obviously pleased that he'd remembered, but at the same time sad about something.

"That is only partially correct." She said, in a melancholy voice, "There are many things that contribute to these circumstances. Indeed, people no longer have the ability to empathize... but in the case of that woman... and others that come before or after her on similar paths... it is because they are not important in society, at all... Even the people who hear and recognize the words for what they mean... will say 'It's nobody important' and 'Why should I bother'?"

"Because she's not rich and doesn't have any status?" Ben demanded, angrily. The Countess shook her head, sorrowfully.

"No... because she was a woman."

Ben's eyes opened wider than he thought was possible, before he sank into the padding of his chair, defeated. He felt mostly in shock, as though a drill was being bored into his brain, but in a spot where there were no nerves for him to feel the pain, even if the damage was still there. A great deal of this was from the improbability and lack of experience that he had with this sort of situation, but, with a bit of a jolt, Ben realized that he'd been very much in a similar situation- completely unaware and ignorant that such things were happenings around him until just today.

"Seiur Ben..." The Countess said, "Have you heard of the Bystander Effect?" Ben frowned and shook his head, "It's a phenomenon in psychology that occurs whenever criminal behavior occurs in a public crowded place- you would expect that, in a crowded place, at least someone would try to help, the victim, no?" The Countess asked, and Ben nodded, "However, in reality, the more people present when a crime occurs, the less chance you have of being helped. Do you know why this is?" Ben shook his head, feeling temporarily mute, "It is because everyone will feel less responsible, with every other person present. On a crowded street, if a man pulls a woman into an alleyway and assaults her, the woman may scream, repeatedly, that she's being attacked and cry for help, but, because there are so many other people, everyone will think the same thing: 'Someone else will do it'."

Ben didn't react- he was too tired, too worn out from all the other shocks, that, even as this news disgusted and embroiled him, he simply didn't have the energy to be surprised or upset about it.

"...Is that also why...?" He asked, and the Countess shrugged.

"Like I said- many factors go into it. There are also economical, environmental, political, and even biological factors that contribute to why things like this happen." She replied, before smiling, "You should be proud of yourself." Ben looked up, frowning, "Unlike everyone else around you, you attempted to interfere. Even if those good intentions didn't do anything, you still meant to help. That's more than I can say for most anyone else."

Ben sat, quietly, for a moment, before he suddenly became aware, as though he hadn't been earlier, that he was sitting in the Countess's house, uninvited, on a day when she might have had other business and appointments. He shot to his feet, earning him a curious glance.

"...I'm sorry..." He stammered, and when the Countess didn't ask, explained, "...You didn't invite me over today... and you probably had things to do, so..."

"This is business." The Countess replied, firmly, and when Ben stared at her, she picked up the red bag on the table and put the contents back inside, "It's always important for me to follow up on my clients. You brought me the news of what happened- this was business." The Countess stood, "Now, allow me to show you the door- Suna is prone to attack Sieur Jacen if she passes him by while he's waiting."

Ben gulped, a little, before he remembered.

"Um... Countess... can I ask you one more question?" He mumbled, before the Countess turned, smiling.

"Certainly."

"...You called Jacen... 'Little Boy'... why...?"

The Countess blinked.

"It's only proper for someone such as myself to address someone at least ten years her junior as 'little', wouldn't you agree?" She asked, as though she was mentally questioning Ben's mental health. Ben's eyes bugged as he stared at her.

"...Ten years?" He asked, hoarsely.

"Maybe fifteen." The Countess shrugged, while Ben's eyes started to pop.

"...But... but but but... but you'd have to be in your FORTIES, then..." He stammered. The Countess actually stopped walking and turned around to stare at Ben.

"You mean you couldn't tell? Don't my clothes just SCREAM 'Old person'?" She asked, innocently, tugging on the collar of her dress. Ben's jaw dropped and his eyebrow began to twitch, uncomfortably.

"...It's not THAT noticeable... and forty isn't exactly OLD, either..." Ben muttered, but the Countess ignored him, continuing to lead him to the door.

Jacen was more than happy to know that they would be leaving.

* * *

"_Mon ami, se uebelkeit..."_

"I am..."

"_Pourquoi?"_

"For this soul is still so young and beautiful..."

"_Einsehen..."_

"It is that alone which gives me cause... to fear..."

* * *

"Where were YOU?" Jaina demanded as Jacen returned to his apartment, making him squirm in his shoes.

"...Just out..." He finally offered, but his twin continued to glare.

"I was standing here all afternoon- I've got something to talk to you about." Jacen straightened up and unlocked the door for him and his sister to enter.

"Okay... what?" He asked, flopping onto his floating pillows, wincing as he hit his head on the brace. Jaina didn't notice, but she immediately asked.

"Have you been feeling disturbances in the Force, lately?" She asked, and when Jacen made a surprised noise, she pressed, "Specifically, a summons?"

"Yeah- what do YOU know about that?" Jacen snapped, irritably not in the mood to play Twenty Questions, before Jaina gave him The Look, "Oh yeah... we're twins..."

"I'm asking because I went to see Mom today and when I told her about some dreams that I've been having, she told me that she'd received a message from Tahiri about similar dreams." Jaina explained, waiting for Jacen to figure it out, like she had.

"Tahiri? We haven't heard from her in a long time." Jacen said, surprised, "And she's been having similar feelings from the Force?" Jaina nodded.

"Moreover, I started to be curious after I heard that Tahiri had been feeling that way, so I asked a few other friends- Lowie, Zekk, and the Calrissians." Jaina added, and Jacen seemed to understand.

"Survivors of the Myrkr mission." Jacen finally said. Jaina's look remained steady.

"And all of us have been having the same pull by the Force to the Unknown Regions, unless you've been feeling something for other reasons..." Jaina asked, and Jacen shook his head, "Then, the only person missing is Tenel Ka- maybe you should ask her, just to keep in touch."

"Jaina- you know how busy Tenel Ka is..."

"And if I remember her, she'll want nothing less than to be interrupted from that work."

Jacen stared at his twin for a long moment, before sighing and leaning back.

"Fine... I'll talk to her..." He relented, before gruffly saying, "So, how'd your visit with Mom go?"

"She's worried." Jaina replied, raising Jacen's curiosity.

"About what?" He asked, never having known their mother to be worried so much about something that she would confide in them about it.

"Winter- apparently, Tycho's been getting really sick and it's causing Winter stress, and as a friend, Mom is worried about them." Jaina replied, with a heavy sigh. Jacen's eyebrows went up, then he smirked.

"Wow... General Tycho Celchu is grounded by a measly cold bug- that'll be the day..." He commented, flippantly, while Jaina scowled.

"That's not funny, Jacen- if it is just a cold virus, then our medical community should know about it, if it can make people this sick, and if it's not something like that, then something really is wrong with Tycho." She insisted. Jacen rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come ON, Jaina. A cold isn't gonna kill him."

* * *

"So... now, we know of the status of the three main players, as well as a method to deal with them..." The CMC noted, filing away papers into her desk as she swiveled in her chair in the library to face her steward, "Gornash, have you any information about Mon Mothma?"

Gornash bowed, solemnly.

"I do, Milady. It seems that she passed away at least ten years ago. She had a son, who died before her as a soldier, and a daughter whose whereabouts are unknown."

The Countess seemed a little less than pleased to hear this.

"I see. And what of the circumstances of her death?" She asked. Gornash replied, not without fear, as he knew what his employer was likely to do.

"She died in her sleep, due to a condition that nanomites had inflicted on her when they had been dumped on her skin by a Caridan ambassador some years before." He answered. The Countess considered this information.

"What were the circumstances under which the attempt had been made?" She asked. Gornash paled a little, and looked down at the notes he'd taken.

"They may have been personal, political, or economical. I could not find definitive evidence, and there were very few skirmishes aside from personal rivalries." He reported. The Countess heaved a sigh.

"Then, what was the status of the Republic in the aftermath of her death?" She asked. Gornash seemed a little more relieved.

"The Yuuzhan Vong War began." But his relief was short-lived as the Countess' expression became a sneer.

"So, following on the heels of her death, all that she worked to build and create is toppled." She mused, "As her death comes, so does malfortuna, which blows away the sand in the foundation of her tower, as though to punish all that was wrongly built. Poor Lady Mothma... how truly frightful..."

"How humiliating..." Gornash muttered, almost to himself.

"How delightful." The Countess finally sneered.

"Milady... what are you thinking?" Gornash asked, apprehensively. The Countess shrugged.

"Her daughter can be left alone- without a living mother to poison her mind, there's no need to involve her."

"Milady?"

"For now... let's focus on the other three..."

* * *

Ben uncomfortably watched his mother and father interact through a crack in the door. He felt bitter and detached, part of him wishing he could be in there with them, but the other part of him saying that he didn't belong, anyway. His mother looked so at peace when his father put an arm around her shoulder, and his father seemed to be so happy for that very reason.

"I don't know how you do it, Farmboy, but I wish I could do it..." His mother said. That feeling of contentment, but yet, somehow, discontent washed over Ben- he closed his eyes and shut out the slight upset feelings from both his parents, letting the overwhelm of happiness and love fill him, enough that he almost felt like it was being directed at him... except he knew it wasn't. Ben's eyes opened again and he let out a low breath, feeling incredibly lonely.

"What?" His father asked. Ben felt the undercurrent of disappointment rise, before he heard his mother speak.

"You make people feel so comfortable. Just about anybody can feel at ease talking to you. Hardly anyone would be like that with me..." Ben's mother replied. Ben resisted the urge to snort, knowing full well that HE certainly didn't feel at ease around his father.

"What about people who don't?" His father asked. Ben heard his mother snicker.

"Then, there's something wrong with them." She answered, with a joking tone, but it made Ben cringe all the same.

"Now, Mara- they just might not believe in the Force." Ben's father said, gently, and Ben saw his mother twist her lips and frown and raise an eyebrow at the same time.

"Like I said- something wrong." She replied. Ben's teeth dug into his lower lip.

"True..." He heard his father say, finally, relenting, "But if I had to say, you've always had a way of being forward with people- I'd rather be able to be straight up when confronted than comforting. That's why I've never been good at communicating with people."

Ben sat back on his heels a little, surprised to hear this out of his father's mouth, but kept watching, feeling farther and farther away.

"So... you want to be like me, and I want to be like you... What a sorry pair we make..." His mother mused, and it caught Ben's attention, for some reason. He pressed his nose as close as he could to the crack between the door and the wall.

"Well, we've got the rest of 'Till Death Do Us Part' to work that out." Ben's father noted, turning away, but Ben saw his mother put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hold up there, Farmboy- you've got something on the back of your shirt." She said. Immediately, Ben's father twisted his arm over his shoulder to try and feel what it was that his wife was trying to point out, "It's a stain, genius."

"Oh..." Ben heard the disgust in his father's voice, but before he took notice of it, something occurred to him.

On his back... on his BACK... where he couldn't SEE it!

"THAT'S IT!" Ben shouted, not able to restrain himself, and immediately grasping his parent's attention.

"Ben? Is that you, behind that door?" His mother shouted. Inside his head, Ben cursed at himself in a fashion akin to one he'd heard from his Uncle Han and cousin, Jacen, which they had made him swear he would never reveal to his parents.

With a snort, he opened the door to talk with his parents about it.

* * *

"So... when Mom said that Dad had something on the back of his shirt, and it was something that he couldn't see for himself... it just sort of occurred to me... that people are jealous for the same reasons... because they can't see the things that THEY have... only what OTHER people have..." Ben concluded, as Jacen retrieved their water bottles and tossed Ben his drink.

"That's sharp of you, Ben." He commented, sitting next to his cousin and sounding honestly impressed.

Ben beamed at the praise.

"I really thought of it like that because of the way you explained my empathy to me... it kind of occurred to me that... really, we go through our lives with our qualities written all over us. But all of our bad qualities are always on our fronts, and we see them every time we see our own reflections... we can't see what's on our backs, so we don't realize what kinds of good things we're capable of until someone else tells us." Ben mused, before he paused, while Jacen refreshed his thirst, "Why do you suppose that is?"

Jacen stopped drinking his water and gave his surrogate brother a strange look, "Why do you ask?"

"Well... we just see things about ourselves that are bad and other people have to tell us which qualities we have that are good... is that NATURAL? Or are we taught to only see the bad side of ourselves?" Ben mused, before sipping his water. Jacen's look persisted.

"What are you TALKING about?" He asked, "Ben, you've been spending to much time under that Countess's influence- you're starting to sound like her."

Ben coughed on his water a little, but recovered quickly.

"You say that as though it were a bad thing- The Countess is wise, and kind, and she's experienced more of the world than either of us can even imagine. And she's not just like other aristocrats, either- she honestly cares for the people in her household and they respect her because she's earned it from them, and she treats people in a way as though she wants to help them become better people without being condescending." Ben insisted, before Jacen interrupted.

"This isn't about her behavior- it's about who she IS, Ben. There's something wrong with her- the business she runs, for example. If you asked people about a Wish-Granting business, they'd tell you it was a scam- who charges people for making their wishes come true? That's dishonest." Jacen snapped.

"Then, what about that last woman who went to her? She granted that woman's wish without charging her any money- in fact, she didn't take ANYTHING from her." Ben demanded, but Jacen's scowl deepened.

"The last woman who she 'helped' ended up DEAD because her wish was granted. And you told me that the Countess herself was unhappy about it. She shouldn't grant wishes that hurt people."

"That's not her fault- people don't know when their wish will hurt them. The Countess only does what she's asked." Ben insisted, before Jacen gave him a look that was truly terrifying to behold.

"Then, why doesn't she tell her customers when their wish will harm themselves or other people? That should be common sense- Doctors tell patients when their medication will cause harmful side effects, mechanics tell their customers what sort of oils and driving practices will damage their vehicles, almost every aspect of business requires the professional to warn their clients when something is dangerous." He challenged, and Ben opened his mouth to argue, but shut it immediately.

"Th-that's..." He stammered, but Jacen ignored him.

"So... are you going to be leaving soon?" Ben finally asked his cousin. Jacen didn't look at him.

"Mmm... and Jaina and a few of our old friends are going with us." He replied.

Ben sighed, knowing he would receive no more answers from his cousin.

* * *

"This CMC... he sounds like he's quite made his way into Coruscanti society..." Mused the Chief-of-State, Cal Omas, perplexed. He addressed nobody in particular, but it was odd, he thought, that one person would come into society and immediately gain such influence, as this person apparently had...

Cal Omas had only heard little details- that apparently the Skywalkers were his mediators, he'd bought the _Millennium Falcon_ for the price the Senate needed to repair damages from the Yuuzhan Vong War, then given it back without asking for a refund, and was making himself immensely popular among the lower classes for some reason.

Perhaps he had gotten it into his mind to enter the political arena. Popularity such as this would only be extremely favorable in earning a vote for office, both from the population and from the office holders.

Cal Omas pressed a button on his desk to call his aide.

"I would like you to arrange a state formal event to welcome an important figure into our environment. Have invitations and notices sent to our most influential figures of state, present and former- from members of the Rogue Squadron to the best Senators and Councilors. See if you can bring the remaining Ackbars and Mothmas to the event, and be sure that the invitation to Rogue Leader Celchu is also for his wife." He instructed, knowing full well that he had no skill in the planning of grand events nor the preparations for them.

But, Cal Omas determined, he WOULD find out the identity of this mysterious CMC, and whatever secrets he planned for the future.

Even if it cost him his life.

A/N: That's where it's ending, because I can't write anymore right now. But I'm gonna get a jump start on my next chapter. Please, for the sake of this fic, tell me if there are any glaring mistakes, grammar, continuity, anything at all- for example, I just recently discovered that the government is not 'The New Republic' but rather, 'The Galactic Alliance' and that Leia is no longer a Senator. Stuff like this, I need to know, so review and tell me if you see anything wrong- I'm trying to keep this as accurate as possible.

And, for the more astute, the person who says 'Mon ami' is speaking a garbled mix of French and German. I did my best, so, roughly, what's being said is "My friend, you are unwell", "Why?", and "I see..."


	10. Chapter 9

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Getting a head start so I don't lag again.

Chapter 9:

"A big formal dinner for the state at a time like this? I don't know who I should be swearing at and calling unreasonable- the Chief of State for calling it, or the CMC for showing up and giving him an excuse to call it." Han grumbled, looking over the official-looking invitation. Leia sighed, trying to console her husband.

"Han, it's not fair to blame the Countess- she didn't necessarily ask for this." Leia offered, though she inwardly agreed that something was incredibly fishy about this whole affair.

"And if she DID ask?" Han demanded. Leia sighed.

"Then, call her all the names you like- but please wait until you can be completely certain. It would be rude, otherwise." Leia replied. Han groaned, but sank into a chair and accepted it.

"Still... I get the feeling that he sent this invitation specifically for you. Why don't you tell Omas that you're finished with being a Senator and politician for good and be done with it?" Han asked, knowing how Leia had described her role in as a politician as "just pretending to be one." His wife sighed.

"I wish I could- but you KNOW what he's like. Omas is still operating under the assumption that I will always be a diplomat and politician, and if he's argued with, he refuses to compromise or he gets angry. And, given the trouble that Luke's been having concerning the Jedi Order with him, that's the last thing anyone needs." She replied, massaging her temples, before Han stood and walked around behind her, gripping her shoulders and massaging.

"And, in any case, the Millennium Falcon is part of the fleet. As it's pilot and co-pilot, we would both be invited, anyway." Leia conceded, leaning back into her husband's hands.

"I still say he's being a rotten old geezer of a jerk for pushing this on us." Han muttered, like a sullen kid whose parents had sent him to his room.

Leia laughed, softly.

"What else is new with you?" Han asked, changing the subject.

"Well... Winter's been under some stress, lately... Tycho's been really ill lately, and Winter has no idea what it is... and even the medicine she gives him only seems to make him worse."

Han's eyebrows raised.

"Wow. Maybe he's allergic to something in the medicine?" He suggested.

"I have no idea, but Winter's been so upset about it..." Leia said, before Han caught something in her tone.

"You sense something with that Jedi hocus-pocus?" Han asked, causing his wife to chuckle, but answer.

"...It's... a sense of foreboding... like something is being manipulated, and I'm only seeing the world through a filtered lens, not seeing the whole picture... and, on a completely different note, there's this sense of someone calling for help, tugging at me, and something trying to pull me apart, almost menacing." Leia said, shakily. Han's grip on her shoulders tightened, then released, as Leia relaxed a little more.

"You and your brother have gotten out of more scrapes than this- you'll lick whatever's going screwy without even causing a rise for the media to cover. Besides, the public supports the Jedi Order, and Omas knows that if he wants to stay as Chief of State, he'll have to do what the public wants- that takes care of the politics." Han said, lifting one hand to count off the solutions. Leia cast him a small smile.

"We've still got to go to that dinner or party or masquerade or whatever Omas is throwing for the CMC." She reminded him, with a teasing jab at his foul mood earlier.

Han leaned down and nuzzled against her neck.

"...We might have to go to it, but I can think of a quick, easy, inexpensive way for you to put me in a better mood and keep me from sulking." He whispered, using his nose to nudge down the collar on Leia's shirt. Leia laughed, just a little.

"I'd say 'Quick' is the LAST adjective I'd use to describe what YOU'RE thinking of..." She replied, her voice dropping as low as it would go.

* * *

The appointed day for the formal dinner of Cal Omas's suggestion came before the week was out, and thus, Ben only learned of it when Jacen informed him of what he'd heard from Jaina, who'd heard from their mother.

"But why weren't you two invited, if everyone of importance to the state is to be there? Weren't you two in the Rogue Squadron as Commanders?" Ben asked. Jacen snickered, just a little.

"But we're Jedi. The current Chief of State can't STAND people like us, much less invite us to a long evening like this. He likes to avoid the Jedi like the plague, and at a formal event, that would be impossible." Jacen said, dismissively. Ben snorted, realizing THAT must have been the reason his parents hadn't said anything to him.

Still... Ben mused to himself, if his parent's wouldn't be going... it occurred to Ben that there would be no Jedi to notice a little lump in the Force, masking it's presence and watching.

'What would Jacen say if I gave him some solid proof of the woman the Countess is... if we saw how she reacted with other people when I'm not around, and it was the exact same, then how could he doubt her anymore?'

With this in mind, Ben prepared for the night by first tricking Nanna into a play mode that would keep everyone busy for a few hours- he was particularly proud of himself for the maneuver, as it involved a manipulated version of Hide and Seek, except that Ben had told Nanna that he was allowed to change his hiding spot while she was looking for him, especially if she came into the room he was hiding in and failed to find him before leaving again. Chances were, Nanna would probably not going to realize she was being had until Ben came home, given how she would compute and calculate the probabilities of all the nooks and crannies in the building and check them systematically.

Following that, Ben managed to make his move into the Alliance War Museum where the planned reception was to be held, following in on the heels of a particular Senator, whose dress consisted of an incredible bustle that provided more than ample room for him to hide under. Once inside, Ben slid out quickly and darted behind a large screen of a decorated two-way mirror, allowing him to see the whole room, in its entirety without being seen, himself.

The room was large and spacious. A wide circle of long tables had been arranged in the center, with places and formal chairs and place cards already set. Ben didn't need to see it in order to know the Countess would be seated right next to the Chief of State, as the guest of honor. Every invited person was milling around the circle, interacting, or staring up at the large memorial dedications to time lines of the Galactic Civil War.

There were Senators from the Correllian systems, the Alderannian sector, the Duro, Kuat, Orus, Fakir, Bothan, Kalarba, and Calamari sectors, even a representative from Hutt Space, whom was lounging on a hover chair with a hookah in the corner of it's mouth. It didn't come as much surprise to Ben that he found his Aunt Leia on the opposite end of the room, with a woman with white hair and a blond man.

Winter and Captain Tycho, though he didn't look well at all.

"I was under the impression Captain Solo would be present as well, Senator." A man with white hair, whom Ben recognized as the current Chief of State, Cal Omas, was speaking with his aunt, in a manner as though to say 'Why isn't he here?'

"Han said he was feeling sick and it would be more polite to not come and possibly ruin the artifacts in the museum." Leia explained, calmly, but this didn't seem to pacify Omas very well, as he turned to Captain Tycho, who was looking paler, still.

"I hope you're feeling better, Captain- I heard that you'd been under the weather, lately..." He said, with a distinct edge in his voice, but Ben saw Captain Tycho smile, all the same.

"I'm feeling MUCH better, now, thanks to the loving care I've been receiving." He responded, clapping an arm onto his wife's shoulder, but the second he did, Ben put a hand to his mouth to stop the noise that would have come out, otherwise. He got the impression that the smile Winter was wearing was incredibly false, just for appearances, and that something else was creeping around behind her face, like a viper that was waiting to strike, but for now, lay waiting in the grass.

Captain Tycho coughed, a little, before continuing.

"Just a little cough isn't gonna kill me, and I've been seeing a medic to find out what's been causing the dizzy spells. After that, I'll be right as rain, but thank you for your concern." Omas looked displeased at the Captain's attitude and how it had completely led him off topic, but turned and left, anyhow. Ben heard Winter lean in to whisper to Aunt Leia.

"Han just didn't want to come, didn't he?" She asked, and there was that flash again, but so brief, Ben almost thought he imagined it.

"After how they've been bugging him to donate the _Falcon_, you REALLY think he'll willingly enter the museum?" Aunt Leia whispered back, with a smirk, before Omas gathered the attention of all the present figures.

"Now, ladies and gentleman of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, I'm sure you are all wondering why we are gathered here, tonight- Within the past few weeks, a prominent figure has made his way into Coruscanti society, it is said, with the intent of business conductivity, and has risen to immense popularity with the public and several of the most influential figureheads of our political and economical system. As such, this person has earned the merit of an official recognition by the state, and thus, I asked you all to gather here tonight to welcome our newest citizen: _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Come'te, _translated as 'The Count of Madame Crigan' or, the CMC." There was a polite smattering of applause as several figures looked from each other, as though wondering who among them the CMC was, while Ben covered his mouth and saw his Aunt and Winter do the same to keep from laughing, as the Chief of State had apparently made the same mistake as many before him regarding the CMC, "He has not arrived yet, for I asked him to come later, but he has also been invited to bring as many members of his household along as he would please, so we may become acquainted with what kind of man he is, as well as learn of the different customs and values he holds."

Ben felt a twinge in the back of his head- something like understanding- coming from his Aunt Leia, and wondered what it was she understood.

"Now, with that in mind, let us all welcome..."

The doors opened. Omas fell silent and all eyes turned to the parade of four people who entered. Ben smiled to himself to see the Countess at the forefront, wearing a simple, black pinstriped, one-piece suit, with a silver trimmed frock coat and a strange, brimmed hat with a flat top. For some reason, Ben also noted, she was carrying a cane. Almost immediately behind her came her steward with white hair, dressed in a more straight cut manner of a coat and suit, and a chair, which walked on it's own, with Haid sitting in it, dressed in a strange dress that looked as though someone had simply wrapped a long piece of decorated cloth around her and then held it in place with all the bangles and jewelry that covered her head, neck, and arms.

The Countess pulled her coat off, revealing a short jacket with coattails hanging to her knees on it, and handed it to her steward, whom helped her slide it off her shoulders, and took her hat.

The look on Cal Omas' face was such that Ben had to plug his nose and mouth at the same time to keep from breathing too loudly as he held in his laughter.

"...Aah... you wouldn't be the CMC, by any chance...?" He asked, politely, and the Countess returned the smile.

"Only if by 'by any chance', you've heard a rumor that I acquired my title in a game of Sabacc..." She replied. Omas looked distinctly put out, but recovered, quickly.

"In any case, it is a pleasure to have you with us- I hope you feel most welcome." He offered, before extending a hand, as though expecting to be given one of the Countess's hands to kiss. Ben, therefore, had to stuff his fist in it's entirety into his mouth to muffle the noise he would have made when the Countess's took the Chief of State's hand and pressed her lips to the middle knuckle.

Even his Aunt looked surprised. Ben practically choked on his withheld laughter.

It was promising to be an interesting evening.

With the awkward usurping of dominance, Omas immediately moved along the event to the dinner, as the long tables that had been arranged were quickly filled by their proper occupants. Ben's snickers were disguised by the shuffling of feet and rustling of elaborate outfits, as he saw the Countess sit down to the immediate left of Cal Omas, while the chair Haid occupied crawled over to a spot next to her, and, between them, sat the fourth member of the party- the redheaded twelve-year-old boy that the Countess had called 'Hiken'.

A shiver ran up Ben's spine- something about the boy felt distinctly off, like something very important separated him from everyone else in the room, and not just his age, although it was quite plain that he was nowhere near as old as he looked, given that the Countess had to cut his food for him when he'd fumbled with his utensils- if Ben had to say, Hiken was probably only five on the inside, from the way he acted.

"So, in any case, Countess, may I ask where you hail from?" Asked one of the representatives, once the dishes had been completely served and all were comfortable talking.

"The planet I am from is a place far beyond the reaches of this galaxy, past even what you designate as Wild Space or the Unknown Regions." The Countess replied, not touching her food. Ben saw his Aunt squirm, slightly, and knew very well what was wrong.

"What is it like? Is it mostly a forested planet?" Questioned a Bothan politician.

"Or is it possibly a frozen world?" Asked a lady, whom was eying the black clothes of the Countess and her steward, whom was standing behind her chair instead of occupying the seat specified for him. Yet another person- whom, Ben noted, had a notepad and wore eye enhancers- batted that question away.

"Nonsense- look at what the young lady is wearing. Nobody could live in a cold climate wearing something like that. I'd say their planet must be tropical in nature, perhaps even a desert."

The Countess said nothing, preferring to sip the drink in her wine glass and listen to the others speculate as to her origin.

"Milady, they have asked you a question." Her steward muttered over her shoulder. The Countess smiled for a moment, before she spoke.

"The world I have arrived from is one that is far beyond the stretch of any of your imaginations. It is impossible for me to describe to those who have never seen it, just as it is impossible to describe color to a person blind since birth, or music to a person born without hearing. All of you would be completely baffled by whatever I described." She replied. The collective group stared at the Countess, but her eyes remained closed, but with a sense of sureness, as though she was not aware of the many pairs of eyes on her, or simply was beyond caring.

"That's certainly convenient. Is there a sordid history that you wish to hide, or perhaps this planet is so plain and shameful you have no pride in it?" Asked one of the Senators- Ben couldn't see who had asked, so he couldn't be sure, but the voice had sounded different from Human.

"Or, perhaps, you're not truly from a different galaxy at all, and giving away details would betray your game?" Asked another voice, this one even nastier than the first, but the Countess showed no agitation, in fact, she seemed to be pleased that she was being bombarded.

"Of course, the fact of the matter is that there is a certain sense of intrigue to the mystery that surrounds me. Is that not the very reason that an occasion such as this-" The Countess gestured from one end of the table to the other without even extending her hand, "-was arranged? Surely, if all the secrets of my past, home, the land I come from, and the worlds called home by my household and servants had been known from the start, none of you would be interested in the strange aura about me, is that not so?"

The whispering, both gossiping and questioning, quieted.

"She makes a valid point- it is just the nature of living things to be drawn by that which they don't understand and find alluring, after all." Captain Tycho agreed.

The Countess's expression changed, for the slightest of moments, so quickly that nobody seated saw it, but Ben, whom had his attention fixated on the Countess, saw it plainly.

"Well, if you don't mind my saying, opinions of political stances are not meant to remain secret, especially if a citizen is planning to be active in the arena." Omas finally put in. Ben heard his Aunt sigh, but it could have been covered by the mumble of consent from the other politicians at the table.

"My ideas of politics are that the just society will foster a just individual, and a just individual will contribute to the just society, in a circle, each part dependent on the other." The Countess replied, shortly. Omas gave her a peculiar look, before he asked a few more questions.

"Oh? What would you say regarding wars? This galaxy has seen more than it's fair share of action in that area. Or would you support or discourage the interference of religious figures in politics? Or, shall we say, would you acknowledge a law which suppressed the rights of a small minority group to benefit the safety of another?" He pressed. The Countess sipped from her glass again, but Ben could tell, particularly by the slight crease in her brow, that the Countess was beginning to be aggravated.

"Chief Omas." She intoned, sharply, in a tone and with a use of titles that implied how she thought of Omas in comparison to herself, "You are leading into a discussion that should rather be saved for the Senate floor or a private conversation, but in any case, most of your own invited guests seem to be taken with a sense of indigestion."

Omas fell silent, with a look of almost indignation and barely contained fury at being put in his place at the Countess, but her eyes were so sharp and blazing that hardly anyone dared say a word, almost as though her presence in the room had expanded to ten times her true size and was hovering over them with a kind of menace.

In any case, the Chief of State, acknowledging the blow, stopped the interrogation and let the other members return to their questions, which came much more easily for the ladies than the gentlemen, at this point.

"Countess, if I may ask- is there a Count somewhere in your life that we may have the pleasure of meeting, sometime?" Asked one of the ladies, who Ben could see was clearly an aristocrat.

The Countess shook her head.

"I have never married." The Countess replied, a little more relaxed now that the talk had turned sociable again. Immediately, all the ladies, at least those who were not Senators or politicians of some sort, and thus, had never learned the need for self control, pounced on this piece of information.

"Perhaps someone should introduce this fine young thing to their son, or nephew, or something of the sort. No lady in such a prime of her life should go through it alone." One of the older ladies present insisted.

Ben doubled over, losing sight of everyone for just the moment, covering his mouth to hide his snickers, seeing how he'd recently learned that the Countess was, by no means, a young lady. At the same time, he could feel a pang of humor coming from Winter, and could only guess that the Countess had discussed the topic of marriage with her, at some point, which then led him to the conclusion that the Countess must have very specific points to be made about the topic.

Meanwhile, the men and Senators relaxed, though somewhat awkwardly, as the ladies with less cultured manners gossiped over what should be done about the Countess's status as an unmarried woman.

"What do you suppose would be a good match for her? A craftsman, or a nobility?"

"Maybe a politician- if she has such an interest in the area, she should be paired with someone who will keep her informed and take her ideas to the floor."

"No, no- the naval fleet is the place to look for a husband."

"And the wedding could be held at the Alderaanian Consulate."

"The room should be done completely in black and white."

"So... does her Excellency have no say in this, herself, ladies?" Ben heard Winter's voice put in, which immediately lead to a flurry of questions from the ladies of what the Countess's preferences would be to a wedding. The CMC, who, thus far, had been sipping her wine and mostly listening to the chatter with an idle smile, as though listening to children bicker over who got the last cookie, finally looked up and smiled, sweetly and brightly, at all of the ladies, making her words all the more harsh.

"All of your ideas sound utterly repulsive." She said, that innocent smile firmly in place on her face, clearly mocking. All of the ladies who she had been addressing stopped chattering immediately, before they began to talk again.

"Oh, come now- what did you find upsetting?"

"Surely, you can't plan to die alone?"

"Is there already a particular custom for ceremonies that you're akin to?"

The Countess continued to smile.

"Ladies, the very idea of marriage is altogether insulting- Please, keep that for your daughters and nieces, not for mere strangers who you've just met." She said, and Ben noted, with some surprise that drew him away from the Countess's face, how the other three were reacting- her steward's face had hardened, and Hiken and Haid had both stopped eating, though the younger was staring much more openly at the CMC, while Haid was still making an attempt to appear uninterested.

It made Ben wonder what it was about the idea of marriage that had all of them so alerted.

"Oh, dear- you can't mean that! Don't you even have a heart?" Asked one of the older ladies, with gray hair, and the Countess's eyes hardened. It was a subtle change of expression, one that just barely made an impression, and one would have had to see the transition to see how it had changed, but the meaning was clear enough, and there was again, a flutter.

"My, we've uncovered at least one of your secrets!"

"You were right, dear- this IS fun, learning these things as we go."

"Come now, who's the young man?"

"Is he an artisan?"

"Perhaps some fine mechanical engineer with a shipyard full of amazing creations?"

"Or a rugged pirate on a spice freighter?"

"Or a handsome colonel?"

"Please, dear, give us some clue!"

Ben could hear a collective, but suppressed sigh from all of the men and politicians at these women who were being so excessively rude and dominating the conversation with gossip. He could feel his Aunt's empathetic discomfort for the Countess, Winter and Tycho's disdain for their manners, almost all the other Humans' boredom and tire, and Cal Omas' inward fury that his formal occasion had turned into such a low-class table discussion by the aristocrat ladies.

"He's of no profession." Piped up a high-pitched voice next to the Countess. Ben blinked through the circle of bodies to see that everyone was staring at Hiken, effectively drawing the other's into the conversation, as very few had any idea what that phrase was supposed to mean.

"Didn't 'Of no profession' used to refer to men of nobility and class?" Finally one of the Senators, with graying hair on his temples asked.

Another, this one of some alien race that Ben couldn't place, replied.

"I think it's a euphemism for being unemployed... or, possibly, retired..."

"It also refers to a church of some kind." Ah, that would be Aunt Leia speaking, "Since being a member of a religious order is not considered a profession, but rather, a calling, the phrase has bearing in that sense."

Oh, Ben covered his mouth, again to keep from gasping. Of course- the Countess had been in love with a teacher of hers, sometime in her past.

Of COURSE it would be touchy.

"Hiken." The steward spoke up again, giving the child a stern look, as though to remind him that children are to be seen, not heard, "You know perfectly well there is no such person."

Ben blinked, then stared, unsure if he was seeing things, or if the Countess's steward's lips could really have gone that thin. Hiken, meanwhile, was frowning.

"But there IS!" He hissed, audibly. The Countess had returned to calmly sipping her wine, enjoying the sound of people talking, much in the way she had listened to the others speak, earlier.

Ben, and everyone else, watched Hiken and the steward continued to exchange hisses of 'There is', 'No, there isn't' back and forth for a few seconds, before the younger turned back to the table and informed them,

"There is, and his name begins with an 'S'." He was struck, lightly, by the steward, whom had apparently taken the role of father for the present, but the ladies again pounced on the topic, debating who the 'Mr. S' could be.

Ben saw his Aunt visibly start, before she turned to the Countess, who was leaning back and watching the spectacle with a bemused expression.

"You don't seem upset at the gossip of your personal life." She noted, dryly. The Countess put her wine glass back down. Ben noted, as his attention followed the Countess's hand, that she had neatly laid her fork and knife on the edge of her plate, without even a bite missing from the food.

"I find this entertaining." She replied, with a polite smirk, with obvious disdain for the women gossiping, "In a similar manner as to how I might laugh at a flock of ducks being herded by an angry chicken, or how I'd be amused when a squirrel went flying off of a rigged bird feeder."

Aunt Leia snickered a little, before she sat back. Haid, on the other hand, as far as Ben could see, was growing increasingly uncomfortable, before she finally sat up straight in her chair.

"Sieur Chief of State..." She spoke, softly, but yet with musical grace that the bickering subsided so that all the best gossip hunters could see who was speaking like that, "Were you the one to decorate this room?"

Cal Omas, taken back and not anticipating such a question, gaped in flattered surprise at Haid, but finally managed an answer.

"Hardly, this is a room inside the Alliance War Museum, reserved for parties such as this. Before the Yuuzhan Vong War, the place this kind of event would take place at would have been the Grand Reception Hall, but it was ruined with the re-shaping of Coruscant." He explained, and Haid's eyes lit up with understanding.

"So this is a war memorial to the defiance of the Rebellion against the Empire, then?" She asked. Omas nodded, with pride, before Haid finally asked, turning to look over in the corner- Ben tried to follow her gaze, but couldn't from behind the mirror, "I was simply wondering, if this place is a war memorial... what a piano forte was doing in the corner."

Omas frowned, with confusion, before he turned to a man seated on his right.

"You were the one who designed this room, weren't you, Fel?" He asked. Ben started, then saw that it was quite a different 'Fel' being addressed than the one who his cousin had such an infatuation for.

"I was, but I didn't know that it was called 'piano forte'... What IS it, if you know?" The decorator replied, while Haid smiled, sweetly.

"It's an instrument- by pressing on the keys, you cause soft hammers to lift and hit the strings inside, causing them to create sound." Haid explained, while those who had examined the instrument before frowned, apparently not understanding the physical possibility of what she described.

"Keys? Strings?" Asked a gentleman, who had apparently owned the object before donating it.

"If you could make some kind of noise come out of that thing, I'd say you deserve to have a concert at the Opera House." Noted another, whom had apparently wrestled with it in the past.

Haid's cheeks darkened in their shade of blue.

"If it would please everyone, I would gladly play a piece." Haid said, bowing her head a little. The Senators, politicians, and aristocrats around the tables began to talk, one by one putting their vote in. Some wanted to see how the odd contraption of a piano forte worked, some wanted to know what kind of woman Haid would be in her performance, and Ben even heard his Aunt express curiosity to the apparent musical interest of one of the CMC's household.

"...And... with Shaku-sama's permission..." Haid added, shyly casting a glance to the CMC. She simply smiled, and the next thing anyone knew, the steward had walked over and offered his arms to Haid, who put her arms around his neck as he picked her up, leading to a new set of queries.

"Countess, whatever could be wrong with your young songbird? Is she injured?" Asked a younger Senator, whose eyes continued to linger on Haid. The Countess's reply was quite short.

"In all the time I've known her, Haid has never stood on her own. Beyond that, I could not tell you." The steward carried Haid around the perimeter of the room and set her down on the bench before the piano forte, stepping back as she began to play.

Almost instantly, Ben had to stifle a yawn. The music was sweet and soft, and reminded him of the music box Jacci had given him, almost as though it beckoned him into sleep. The thought barely flitted across his mind that the melody was probably a lullaby, but Ben fuzzily felt the emotions of all the other Humans in the hall- all intrigued and awed and fascinated by the beautiful music that seemed to pour from Haid's finger tips...

But then it hit Ben, snapping him awake.

That sense of malevolence, jealousy, anger, and some kind of burning, passionate desire that was just barely on a leash, being allowed to lash out as far as it could reach, but keeping the range limited...

Someone... someone, one of the Humans in the room... was planning to kill someone.

Ben's mouth opened to scream, but just in time, he remembered that he was hiding and not supposed to be here. He covered it and stopped the noise from coming out, and pouring every ounce of concentration into his shielding. The emotions lessened, but they still nagged at him.

Able to think rationally, now, as Ben heard Haid's music take a turn for a more dramatic kind of mood, as though she was playing a soundtrack for his thoughts, Ben calmed himself and considered what he could do- now that he knew someone was planning to kill someone else, he couldn't reveal himself, just now, like this. In front of all these people, even if he did alert everyone that there was an intentional murderer in their midst, it would make the investigation harder. And if he only told one person, such as the Chief of State, the Countess, or his Aunt... Ben almost panicked again, but he kept his head, as, logically, she was the one he had the strongest empathic connection with of everyone in the room... what if he told the very person who was plotting the kill?

The realization came to Ben with a very bitter taste in his mouth.

He was going to have to tell someone that he'd snuck in to this private affair. His parents... that was out of the question- they would become even more protective and anxious about him. Jacen... he could trust him, but would Jacen be able to help? Maybe Jaina... she was pretty good about stuff like this, but she'd also lecture or, Ben shivered, beat him until he was blue in the face for doing this...

Damn it... who WAS he going to tell?

Haid's fingers hit the last keys on the piano forte and the other attendees applauded, all tension in the air resolved and cleared as everyone pushed away from their seats at the table, taking their drinks with them. Ben's attention returned to what was happening- The Countess had stood and her steward had returned with her coat. A few of those nearby were giving her an odd look, as though to ask why she was leaving so soon, before it became apparent that she merely was using her coat as a blanket for Hiken, whom had fallen asleep.

Haid also had a crowd of admirers, though mostly consisting of the gossiping ladies and a single man, whom Ben could feel was staring at her like a piece of meat in a butcher's window, but she was mostly keeping them at bay by answering with simple 'yes' and 'no' answers.

"Countess, if I may have a word with you!" Ben heard the man ask, at last. The Countess remained standing where she was, causing him to have to walk around the room to her, "The young lady who just played for us told everyone that you bought her as a slave."

There was a pause, as the word slave immediately sent the Senators into a grave silence, and Ben could feel, with a shiver up his back, that Aunt Leia's anger had been sparked.

"And?" The Countess replied, indifferently. Immediately, there was a wave of disapproval.

"And... on Coruscant, there are laws which forbid the ownership of persons in a manner that denies them their rights." The man returned, with a haughty glare. The Countess continued to smile.

"I understand that slander and liable is illegal under that very same constitution." She replied, smiling nastily. The whole room stared at her, "...Unless, perhaps, you walked away BEFORE Haid had a chance to mention that, following her purchase, she was, by all means, set FREE... But that couldn't POSSIBLY be the case..."

The man who had confronted her went quite red in the face, while the other Senators and politicians, whom had before been staring at the Countess with scorn, looked away, embarrassed.

Before Ben could stop himself, he hissed, under his breath, but loud enough for it to echo,

"YES!" And immediately held his breath as he saw several of the people standing nearby look around, wondering where the noise had come from.

"That was I." The Countess's steward put in, but Ben could see his gaze linger on the exact spot that he was, as though the steward could see right through the two-way mirror.

Ben covered his mouth with his hand and resolved to keep in there for the duration.

The noise returned to the room, as the less politically savvy swarmed around Haid, leaving the Senators and Chief of State to freely interrogate the Countess about her views. Ben mostly paid no attention- his knowledge of legalese was severely restricted- but his ears could not help perking as he heard the Chief of State speak.

"In any case, Countess..." The Chief of State was interrupted by the steward, again,

"Milady prefers to be addressed as 'Excellency' by those who have not been acquainted long enough to be intimate." In a tone which clearly expressed his opinion of the Chief of State. Ben stared a little harder, pressing the tip of his nose against the glass, noting Omas' expression, before also realizing, for the first time, how very SHORT he seemed compared to the Countess's steward.

The Countess, herself, had the grace to look upset at her steward's behavior.

"Steward, there's no need to be so RUDE..." She scolded, lightly, only as the Chief of State took the opportunity to mock her.

"Excellency, then... do you think of yourself as a Queen, of some sort?" He asked. The Countess didn't rise to the bait in his voice, opting to continue that sweet smile of hers.

"Perhaps- do graveyards count as kingdoms?" The Chief of State went very pale for a moment, before he puffed himself up again, continuing with the question he had before.

"In any case, uh... Excellency... what is your opinion on the Jedi? I've been having a few... encounters... that leave me questioning..." Ben saw his Aunt Leia stiffen, uncomfortably, but she said nothing, before walking in the other direction, as casually as possible. From the gap in his empathy he'd left open, he could tell that she was extremely upset by the direction it was taking, both personally, and as though she felt her brother- Ben's father- was under attack.

"In asking my opinion on the Jedi, you pose a question similar to 'What do you think about air?' or 'Do you like wood?' Please be more specific." The Countess replied. Omas shifted, slightly, before rephrasing his question.

"Well... are you in favor of their presence in society, or not? There's been some..." He paused, but the Countess filled it in.

"Antisemitism? Possibly from the Vong?" She asked. Omas drooped a little, but Ben could tell that it was in relief.

"Indeed... these days, nobody is sure if the Jedi can be trusted, and while there are the parties who are certain of their stance in our population, it's still a very heated topic."

The Countess had a very blank expression on her face.

"So, as you can tell, a person's stance on the Jedi's involvement with our society is very important for others to know." Omas pressed, when the Countess said nothing, but she merely shrugged.

"As long as the Jedi can remember the appropriate place and time for their opinions, I really don't care one way or the other." She replied, sipping her drink in an idle fashion- Ben had no doubt that, if straws had been available, she would have had one in her wine at that point.

"...Pardon?" Omas asked, and Ben also felt a flutter of confusion from virtually everyone who'd heard the question.

"Because, in most difficult cases, members of religion who hold office will allow their beliefs to interfere with their ability to be good leaders. Instead of making decisions of law based on reason, rational thought, and ethical choices, for the good of the community, they will cast a ballot because they believe 'It is the will of the Force' or 'It is not the way of the Jedi.' and their selfish choice will affect other people who desire something different. If the religious aspect of a Jedi can be kept separate from their logical, rational side, there should be no reason they should be kept out of society, if, by society, you mean the judicial system."

"You have some bold opinions, Excellency." Omas noted, with a slight edge to his voice, and the Countess, for once, seemed to both rise to the bait and not at the same time.

"Well... we ARE all citizens, are we not?" She asked, but in a tone that almost seemed menacing, "Chief of State?"

There was that tone, again, as though the Countess was somehow superior to the Chief of State, in some way, and was exerting her command over him. A man such as Omas must be bludgeoned, not merely pricked, and the blow had this precise effect- he stiffly smiled and went in a separate direction.

Almost immediately, people began to leave, as though Omas had flipped a switch.

The Countess was the last to remain, staring up at the large plaque on the wall, listing the names and dates of the various battles that the Alliance had fought to reclaim the galaxy, before she spoke, at last.

"Sieur Ben, everyone else is gone- why don't you come out from hiding?" She asked, not turning around. Ben went red, but crawled out from behind the mirror. The steward was assisting Haid back into her walking chair, and then neatly managed to place a sleeping Hiken in her lap without disturbing him.

"...Does your steward have x-ray vision, or something?" He asked, when it became apparent that the steward would not even look at him. The Countess's voice took on an attribute, and Ben could tell she was smiling.

"He has... some unusual talents regarding his eyesight. The ability to see through things is the least of them."

Ben felt his insides shift, uncomfortably.

"He would be a great father, in that case..." He muttered, not noticing how the steward flinched. The Countess didn't reply, except to carry on the conversation.

"I presume there was a reason you felt the need to hide during this private affair, which you were not invited to..." She asked, holding no tone of accusation, but Ben still squirmed.

"...I... um..." Ben mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Something is bothering you." The Countess mused, and Ben blinked at her for a moment, before chewing on his lip and answering.

"I... kinda argued with Jacen... a little..." He mumbled. He didn't see the Countess's expression.

"I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess that it was about me, your association with me, or something along those lines." She finally said, and Ben had to laugh at how she put it, when he could tell that she wasn't really guessing.

"Something along those lines, yeah..." He said, at last, thinking back to the argument, before he spoke, "...That reminds me, I figured out the answer to why people get jealous!" The Countess held up a hand.

"Save it for the next time you see me- I need to savor the anticipation just as much as you." The CMC said, stopping him before he could say anything, "...But, how did that have anything to do with the argument?"

Ben scuffed his foot against the floor.

"I told Jacen, then it led me to another question, and he told me that I was starting to sound too much like you..." The Countess made a noise, as though she understood, "...And... that led to a whole other fight, because I didn't think it was so bad for me to ask questions like the one I did, but, apparently, Jacen did... and we ended up fighting about... some other stuff..." Ben didn't say what Jacen had precisely argued against her, and the Countess didn't see the need to pry.

There was a long pause, before the Countess lowered her head. Ben still couldn't tell precisely what she was thinking.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. Ben blinked, confused.

"...For what?" He asked, before the Countess managed a reply.

"Families should not be torn apart- by war or by disagreements... I do not approve of being a subject that drives a rift between family members." She finally said. Ben stared at her for a moment, then kept his several, less than appropriate comments to himself, casting about for something else.

"Milady, we should probably be leaving..." The steward finally said from the sidelines, bringing over the Countess's coat and hat.

Ben's eyes fell on the cane the Countess had hooked on her elbow.

"Countess... did you hurt your leg or something?" The Countess's head snapped around to peer at him, curiously, "...Because, you're carrying around that cane... so..."

She smiled.

"Who says you need a reason to carry a cane?" Was her reply, while her valet held up her coat to help her into it.

"...Well... people are going to ask you if you're injured, carrying it around... and it's not something that people see everyday, so..." Ben stammered to a halt as the Countess whipped around, eyes gleaming, and the end of her cane raised.

There was a small BANG and Ben felt something go whizzing past his face and the sound of flesh and bone being pierced and shattered, before he turned and saw, behind him, a masked person whom had apparently been pointing a blaster at the general direction of Ben's head.

"Though, you are right- I did have this one for a reason..." The Countess admitted, as the small flap on the end of her cane closed and she pulled a long, thin, silver blade by the handle from the actual cane, before striding past Ben and holding the blade to the throat of the now disarmed man, "...But this is a museum, and it would be very rude of me to use either of these and get blood all over the floor."

The meaning was evident enough- the assailant ran, leaving his blaster behind. The Countess resheathed her cane.

"Now, then- why don't I take you home and explain it to your parents?" She offered, extending a hand. Ben wanted to say 'How about you DON'T explain it to my parents?' but he was happy to have a way home.

The Countess left the room, Ben and the three who had come with her following, out to a hover car.

Inside was just as black as outside, but Ben couldn't feel comfortable, knowing the sound tongue lashing he was going to get. The Countess watched him with a peculiar expression, before she finally spoke up.

"Sieur Ben, something is troubling you, am I correct?" The Countess asked, while Ben continued to stare at the floor.

There was a soft pitter patter against the windows of the hover car as it started to rain outside.

"I'm not sure if it would be okay to tell you about it, Countess..." He said, quietly, and the Countess shrugged, leaning backwards, willing to let him take his time. Ben watched her out of one eye, but felt absolutely nothing through his empathy. After a moment's pause, he thought of a better way to put it.

"...What if..." The Countess tipped her head a little, "What if... I thought I found out something... it was something... really dangerous... and I didn't know who it was about... and I knew I needed to tell someone... but I didn't know who to tell, because I might tell the person who it's about and then get in even more trouble... what would I do?" Ben finally asked. The Countess's eyes lingered on Ben for a moment, and he almost could have sworn he saw her pupils dilate and then retract, as though his words had hit a nerve of some kind.

"...Tell as many people as you can, who you trust. Among all of them, at least one person would be able to do something about it." The Countess finally replied, before she smiled, "...Someone at the event tonight... you felt something through your empathy, didn't you?" Ben nodded, not surprised that the Countess knew, "I'd suggest telling your parents, your Aunt, and your cousins. Between all of them, chances are, you won't be telling the wrong person."

"Well... I was kind of worried about that... if it WAS Aunt Leia who I felt it from... then Dad and Mom probably won't do anything... because it's AUNT LEIA..."

"Then I will take action." The Countess interrupted, causing Ben to look up with a mix of shock, horror, and surprise, "You haven't told me what it was that you felt, but I can make an educated guess and go from there. And, since it might have been from ME that you felt whatever it was, you can always tell your parents and Aunt and Uncle, and God knows your cousin, Sieur Jacen, has been looking for an excuse to chase me down- you needn't worry in that scenario."

Ben stared at a moment, in utter wonder at the Countess's casual acceptance of his suspicion of her, before he spoke again.

"...It was..." The Countess didn't seem to take interest that he was speaking, beyond polite notice, "...What I felt... was that someone... was planning to kill somebody else..." The Countess, again, didn't even twitch- but perhaps she was accustomed to it? Or just not listening?

"And... why do you suddenly feel you can tell ME this when, before, you thought I might be the very person you were feeling it from...?" She finally asked. Ben felt his face go a little red, but he answered as honestly as he could.

"...Well... if it WAS you... why were you being so open about it? A person who's planning to kill someone else wouldn't even acknowledge the possibility that it could be them..." Ben finally returned. The Countess chuckled.

"Or, perhaps that was all part of my plan?" She replied, "...I might be putting on this whole act knowing that's how you will think to rid any suspicion..." There was a crafty gleam in her eye.

"But you wouldn't give away that whole plan to someone like me- Even if you'd put your whole plan into action already, you wouldn't tell anyone, because it would give everything away, and I would be able to tell everyone." Ben shot back, the words not really making any sense, except as they came out of his mouth.

"Unless, of course, I was counting on the fact that, since you're still a child, nobody would believe you." The Countess replied, her eyes shutting, as though she were growing bored. Ben quieted for a moment, wondering if the Countess really thought that very statement, but he eventually found the right response.

"But... you said it yourself- Jacen's been looking for an excuse to accuse you, even if he DIDN'T believe me, he'd still take it as good a reason as any and just say the tipoff was anonymous for other people to believe him." The Countess's eyes snapped open and she stared at Ben with open shock for a few moments, before Ben finally said, "HA!"

The Countess continued to blink, before she put a hand over her face and started to laugh.

"Very well done- you've bested my arguments..." She said, between laughs. Ben blinked for a moment, then started to laugh with her.

"Milady, we've arrived." The coach came to a halt and Ben looked out of the window to see, between the tracks of rain, the lights on in the windows of the Jedi Temple, adjacent to the apartment he and his parents lived in. With a heavy sigh, Ben stepped out as the steward opened the door and helped both him and the Countess out and provided a cover from the rain. Ben slumped forward with exasperated lack of anticipation as he knew what was coming.

"Sieur Ben, don't slouch- it's bad for the back." The Countess scolded, lightly, her cane hitting the ground as they walked forward to the door.

Ben looked away as his father opened and gave him a very stern look.

"Ben, where were you?" His father demanded, but Ben continued to look steadfastly away.

"I found Sieur Ben out for an evening walk on my way back from a formal meeting with the Chief of State- as it was starting to rain, I offered him a ride home." The Countess replied, giving Ben a slight push forward. Ben almost looked back in surprise that the Countess lied so smoothly, but stopped himself, disguising it as turning to nod goodbye. As he did so, the Countess touched the brim of her hat with her fingertips, and he could see something in her eyes that let him know,

'You must tell your parents the truth for yourself.'

Ben scurried off so his father could speak with the Countess, running to find Nanna and hoping his parents wouldn't bother him.

* * *

"Excellency, while I can appreciate that you're trying to save Ben some face, I must ask you not to lie on his behalf." Master Skywalker was doing his best to remain calm, but the Countess could tell, underneath the surface, he was filled with annoyance, aggravation, and frustration with his son, as well as herself, but underneath THAT layer was a deep current of relief and love.

The Countess continued to smile, but did not mean it.

_'So this is the kind of father you are, Luke...' _She couldn't help but think, bitterly. She was also very aware that the Jedi Master had read into the Force to know she was lying, but she was also quite secure in the knowledge that he could NOT read into HER.

The Force was useless for her, now.

"My most humble apologies, Master Jedi, but you must ask your son, himself, what the truth is. Even if I told you, it would be useless." The Countess said. After all, if Master Skywalker managed to pry out of her exactly what Ben had been doing, she would inevitably tell him about the foreseen murder that Ben was anticipating, and THAT would lead to her being forced to divulge the identity of the person.

"May I ask what makes you say that the knowledge would be useless if you indulged me?" Master Skywalker questioned. The Countess felt a shiver go up her back, but didn't even twitch.

"Well, if you simply wish to ASK..." She finally said. If he was ASKING, that would be quite different than demanding or ordering her to say.

"...Is that a 'No'?" He asked. The Countess could sense the disappointment and disapproval in his voice, but she continued to smile.

"Hardly- I am but wondering if you are merely making a request." She replied. The part of her that was still young, immature, and cheeky knew that she was deliberately drawing this out, partially for her own amusement, but also because she was reveling in every second spent in his presence with his attention on her. The rest of her, which was cool, in control, and hardened against something as petty as emotion was insisting that this was because she had to remain in control of the conversation, and if Master Skywalker managed to take the reins, everything would be lost.

"In that case, I am only making a request." Master Skywalker said, at last. The Countess smiled at him.

"Perhaps Sieur Ben is insecure about how his parents think of him." She suggested, mysteriously. Master Skywalker raised his eyebrows, "This is just from my experience raising children, but, usually, when parents will try to pressure their child to tell them secrets, it causes resentment, because it sends the message to the child that his parents don't trust him, so he begins to keep more secrets, which perpetuates the cycle." Master Skywalker's eyebrows continued to climb on his forehead.

"Is that so?" He asked, and the Countess could sense a sincere interest in his focus, which prompted her sudden urge to tease him with the information.

"That might just be my opinion... and boys and girls are VERY different, no matter how you raise them, so things that I've learned in raising Jacci might not be THAT useful... Who knows... pr'aps this behavior is simply Sieur Ben going through normal changes for a young boy..." She did her best to look innocent, and by the way Master Skywalker's face fell, almost imperceptibly, she knew she'd done a fair enough job of it.

Oh... and now the Madame was watching. From a distance and around a corner or two, but watching, just the same.

"You needn't be so harsh on yourself- Sieur Ben is only your first child, it's understandable that you lack experience." She finally said, watching very carefully the expression on his face. Master Skywalker let out a breath, raising his hand to his temples to massage them.

_'Ho ho- headaches, now?' _She noted, inwardly.

"...Or, HAVE you had experience with children, Master Jedi?" She pressed, with wide eyes, "Perhaps, with an old pupil or as an Uncle?"

Master Skywalker raised his head from his hand, then smiled and shook his head.

"No, nothing like that- all of my apprentices were well into their adult life when I taught them, and I can't take any credit for my sister's children." Was his reply. With a false smile, the Countess accepted this note, knowing the Master's penchant for remaining humble.

"Oh, I know- I'll send you something useful when Sieur Ben comes back from our visit at the end of the week." She said, clapping her hands together, innocently. Master Skywalker blinked at her for a moment, before inquiring what it was, "Secret. Now, I must take my leave." She touched the brim of her top-hat again and left, before Master Skywalker could protest, leaving him to his wife's interrogation.

Back inside the coach, Haid opened the window that had separated her and Hiken from the Countess and Ben.

"Shaku-sama?" Her voice was timid and soft, as the little clone was still asleep.

"What is it, Haid?" The Countess asked, gently.

"Did something happen?" Again, that quiet tone, hesitant and submissive, and the expression anxious and eager to please, pliant under even her slightest whim.

The Countess so despised it.

"He doesn't even recognize me- He doesn't remember that I even existed..." She whispered, not looking into Haid's face- she knew how worried it was- before she managed a smile, "...This could be interesting."

The Countess did not get a chance to continue, as a great pain in her chest rose up and she began to cough, without end. Her lungs burned, as though acid was being dripped into them, and an icy numbness took her skin as scars rose on her face and the backs of her hands.

"Shaku-sama! SHAKU-SAMA! STEWARD, SHAKU-SAMA IS-!" Haid had moved to pound her knuckles as best she could on the window that separated the driver from her compartment, but there was no need- Gornash had already pulled over and was into the back most seat.

"Milady, your medicine, quickly." He said, retrieving the box of cigars in the armrest, but the Countess was coughing, hunched over and not even truly able to breathe.

Her mind slipped into the darkness and she heard the voice, again.

"_Mon ami, du verheissen-moi..."_

"I KNOW... but not YET... there is still much to be done... and many interesting things will happen."

"_Non ma belange von."_

"I will keep my promise... just wait... a little longer..."

And then, the Countess smelled the sweet scent of smoke and hickory and pollen of many different kinds of herbs and her eyes opened.

Her head was resting on the lap of her white-haired steward, Gornash, and there was a jar on the floor, from which the burning smell was coming from. The Countess closed her eyes and breathed the smoke in deeply, and the burn began to subside, at last, and feeling came back to her face.

"Shaku-sama..." She heard Haid's voice come through the window again, but didn't open her eyes.

"...B'g Br'ther...?" She heard Hiken's sleepy voice add in, and Haid's assurances that the Countess was fine.

"Milady, perhaps Haid and Hiken should stay back here with you." Gornash suggested, but the Countess didn't respond. One of her steward's hands dropped and began to undo the ribbon that had held her hair back that evening, gentling out the tangle.

The Countess took in another breath- lavender, she could smell... Gornash must have added that so the after effects wouldn't be as caustic...

"Mmm..." She finally mumbled, "That might be wise..." She had no idea what she was saying, as her mind was currently swimming off to sleep, until a sharp twist on her ear woke her up.

"Milady, please don't fall asleep with your tie on, at least." Gornash's tone was annoyed, as he reached over and undid the string tie that was under her collar, taking it with him as he left to move Haid and Hiken.

A/N: O-kaaaay... I might have to go on hiatus for awhile- I've got projects for school that REALLY need my attention, but a chapter or two will appear before the year is out. As for other notes- there's foreshadowing and symbolism in this chapter. If you can figure any of it out, you get a cookie. BTW- I just read 'The Joiner King'... and I realized that, in this fanfiction, I really did screw over the canon. Ben hadn't even MET Jacen at this point... oh, well- I'll just say it's the Countess's presence throwing everything off from the books.

And the 'Mon Ami' voice, this time, said 'My friend, you promised me'; and 'That matters not to me.'


	11. Chapter 10

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: Keep your eye on the relationships that develop- they're important. Particularly, any relationships Ben gets himself into.

Chapter 10:

Ben felt uncomfortable as he trudged towards the Countess's house that day at the end of the week. He hadn't told his parents about his experience, nor that he'd snuck into the private party... he was quite sure they wouldn't be as understanding, and that was the last thing he wanted.

But, still... he felt terribly dishonest, and, even worse, had this nagging feeling that his parents would find out from some other source, and then he'd be in even BIGGER trouble.

The Countess was waiting for him in a brightly lit room that was entirely unlike any other in the house- there was no carpet, no lavish furnishings, and the whole room was brightly lit by working lamps, with a large machine in the middle of the floor. The smell of dust was in the air and the Countess herself was behind the machine, feeding what looked like a ball of colored yarn into it. Ben took a seat in a chair that was as far away from the machine as he could take, keeping his eye on the way it moved- the Countess' hands flew in and out of the space between two string covered slates that kept snapping shut, and her foot pressed a pedal that kept a sliding mechanism underneath the machine sliding back and forth.

Ben jumped as he felt someone touch his shoulder, before looking up and noting, with delight, the pair of green eyes staring at him out of the pale face.

"Jacci!" He said, as Jacci smiled, sitting down next to him, "What're you doing here?"

Jacci pointed at her older sister, whom was picking up a new color of string, taking Ben's open hand in hers and beginning her finger talk.

' ' Neh-Nii-Kah's making me something new . ' ' Her fingers said, but the Countess spoke up.

"Jacci, you know it's bad manners to point." Jacci's hand lowered. Ben blinked.

' ' Making you something new ? ' ' He asked, squeezing and tapping his fingers on Jacci's palm, ' ' Like . . . a new dress , or something ? ' ' Jacci was wearing a very plain, shapeless bag of a gown, with sleeves that almost covered her hands and fell to the floor. She had a scarf around her head, but it didn't seem to cover much, except her scalp, so it couldn't have possibly been to keep her hair from getting dirty or something functional like that.

' ' She's making the cloth , actually . She says I need a more functional dress for when I go back to the Academy , because my other dresses aren't good for running in . ' ' Jacci huffed a little through her nose, and Ben glanced up. She was clearly not happy about the idea of being forced to wear a practical dress.

' ' You don't like them ? ' ' Ben asked. Jacci stuck out a lower lip, but the Countess had heard her huff, and apparently knew what that meant.

"It's not going to be pretty for a REASON, Jacci- don't give me that look." The Countess didn't even turn around, but she apparently knew her sister so well that she didn't need it to know the pout Jacci was giving her.

' ' I'll look horrible in it . . . ' ' Jacci told Ben, head hanging miserably, ' ' . . . I don't like stuff like that . . . ' ' The way she 'said' it so hesitantly gave Ben the impression that it was something that she'd never told anyone before, but underneath the surface, Ben almost felt like there was some turmoil of emotions that was screaming in protest against this mentality.

"I'll bet you'll look fine." Ben said, out loud, wanting the Countess to say something, but her eyes remained firmly on the loom, "I think you look cute, anyway- It can't be much worse than this..." Jacci blinked at him, very much like a deer caught in a headlight, before she looked away, smiling and recoiling into her shoulders, shyly, while Ben caught that glimpse of something else, again, that was shouting in victory.

"You have unique taste, Sieur Ben..." The Countess mused, not taking her eyes from the cloth. Ben frowned a little, before the Countess continued, "It's the first time someone's told Jacci that they think she's cute..." Ben's mood didn't improve.

"Why don't YOU tell her, then?" He demanded, and the Countess actually turned away from her work, giving Ben a sharp look that made him feel significantly cowed.

"If I told YOU that I thought you were cute, exactly which way would you take it?" She asked, and Ben felt something in his stomach squirm, distinctly creeped out, "My point, exactly." The Countess said, reading Ben's face.

The rest of the time was silent, before the Countess finished with the cloth, pulling it off the loom and beckoning Jacci over. Ben turned away as Jacci and her sister did the measuring and began the fitting of the pattern, until he heard the door open again.

"Milady." Ben glanced out of the corner of his eye to see the steward, again, who was carrying a very balanced tray of a kettle and cups on one hand, and in the other, a folded table for them to go on.

"Teatime already?" The Countess asked. Ben couldn't look back to see what she was doing, but he heard a huff of breath from Jacci, and then an apology that lead him to believe her hand must have slipped with a pin.

Ben could see the valet's face- he had an expression as though he would have liked to roll his eyes, but was refraining.

"Sieur Ben is here. And he always comes around teatime, so yes- already." He said, in a calm tone to bring logic to the Countess's mind. The Countess didn't seem to be listening, for she still seemed to be poking pins into the cloth, from what Ben could hear of the snorting and apologizing.

"Have it your way- set it down there." The Countess let out a sigh, but Ben could tell that she wasn't impatient or anywhere near as exasperated as she pretended to be- it was almost a fond sort of teasing, and from how her steward's lips were twitching, just the littlest bit, Ben was sure that they'd interacted like this more than once.

"...Countess... Can I look?" Ben asked, nervously, not sure what he was supposed to do. There was a creak, and a tap, telling him that the Countess was getting off of her knees, where she had been measuring and stitching.

"Yes- we need to take a break, anyway." The Countess amended, with the scraping of chairs being pulled over to where the table had been set. Ben cautiously looked over his shoulder- Jacci was stubbornly trying to tie some of the leftover cloth over her head, while her new uniform was pure black, save for the needles that gleamed at the seams. It crossed over the front, like the Jedi robes did, while the pants were pleated, almost looking like a skirt, except Ben could see that they definitely had two legs as Jacci walked.

"See! You look fine!" He said, though he could see there was still plenty of work that could be done. Jacci blushed, cutely, before following her sister over to the table. Ben also took a seat, frowning as the Countess poured hot water into their cups, then spooning a brown, dissolving powder into his and her own cups. Jacci didn't seem to mind, as she took a yellow-brown biscuit and immediately set it to soak in her own water, but Ben couldn't help but stare.

"It's the only thing that Jacci can really eat, from all the things we have here..." The Countess explained, stirring her cup, before smiling at Ben, "You said you'd found out why people are jealous... when we last spoke..." She asked, tactfully.

Ben blinked, then remembered he had indeed found that answer, but couldn't immediately bring it to mind- it seemed to have disappeared like a pair of keys that he'd known where they'd been the night before, but were now nowhere to be found.

"Take your time..." She said, before Ben glanced up, first to the Countess, then to Jacci, whom was gnawing on the biscuit, before reaching for the sugar. Ben saw her sleeve slip, just a little, and saw a purple and brown colored dot on Jacci's arm.

"Jacci, did you hurt yourself?" Ben asked, before Jacci quickly covered up the bruise and shook her head, looking anywhere but Ben's face. Ben blinked, before he glanced at the Countess, who's expression was worriedly grim, but betrayed no other information.

There was an awkward silence before Ben finally remembered his revelation about envy, and explained it with a strained air to break the tension in the room.

The Countess listened, patiently, as did Jacci, before they both smiled at Ben.

"That's an impressive leap of understanding. And I'm amused by how you came to it." The Countess said, dotingly. Ben beamed, but then continued on.

"Actually... I had a question..." He said, slowly. The Countess raised her eyebrows, cup of cafe halfway to her lips. Jacci chose another biscuit and more sugar, listening intently.

"When I realized why people become jealous... I wondered... 'Why can't people see their own good qualities? Why do we need other people to point them out before we realize we have them?' I asked Jacen... and he didn't answer me, because he said I sounded too much like you... and then we had our argument..." Ben paused, and as the Countess continued to smile, he kept talking, "...Because... Jacen thinks that... well..." Ben had to think over how Jacen had said it, before he finally picked, "...He thinks that you should tell people when their wishes..."

"Not 'wish', Sieur Ben, but 'Wish'." The Countess corrected, pouring some of her cafe into her saucer and then sipped a little to test it's temperature. Ben looked at her, queerly, but did his best to sound out the difference.

"...Jacen... I told him about that one woman's WIsh..." The Countess raised an eyebrow, but shrugged, apparently deciding it was the closest Ben could come, "...And he said... that you should have warned that woman that her WIsh would harm her..." Ben said, slowly.

"Sieur Ben..." The Countess said, in a calm voice, "...Suppose an alcoholic goes to a doctor and asks him to cure his liver spots, and the doctor told him that the only cure is to stop drinking..." Ben nodded, "...Do you REALLY think the patient will listen?"

Ben opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"No matter what I say to people like that, no matter what anyone says, no matter what even the people most important to them... to people like that woman, who deliberately seek out things that will cause them harm... they lose their self-respect and dignity, and once they lose those things, the pain that self-damaging habits brings loses it's meaning, and they send themselves to their own destruction."

Ben stared at the Countess in shock as she drained her saucer, then refilled it from her cup.

"I said it myself, didn't I? When she came in- she had to make the choice, between her Wish being granted... and her happiness." She said, blowing to cool her drink before draining her saucer again.

Ben considered.

"What would have happened if she'd taken the blue bag?" He asked, but the Countess didn't answer his question.

"...It's been too long... since Humans have actually thought about what's good for them... In favor of immediate gratification and convenience and conformity to a society that makes them feel just a little more secure... they sacrifice their futures..." The Countess muttered, almost to herself, except Ben knew she meant for him to hear it, as he squirmed, uncomfortably in his seat.

Jacci reached for a third biscuit and more water, as hers was no longer hot.

Ben, remembering his own drink, quickly gulped it down- it was warm, still, but closer to lukewarm than comfortable warm, which made the chocolaty flavor much less appealing.

The Countess finished her drink, then put all the cups and kettle back on the tray, pushing it towards Ben.

"Sieur Ben, if you wouldn't mind, could you please take this downstairs, back to our steward?" She asked, smiling sweetly. Ben blinked at her, incredulous for a moment.

"...Why?" He asked, indignantly. The Countess's smile didn't fade.

"I still need to finish stitching Jacci up- and it would be best if you WEREN'T present for the spectacle." She said, firmly, essentially shoving the tray into Ben's arms and then pushing him out the door.

Ben blinked for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to open the door and explain to the Countess that he had no clue where her steward was, nor how he was supposed to get there.

* * *

After a great deal of wandering around, getting lost, cursing, and eventually, being led to the kitchen by a round ball of a man, Ben found the steward, whom stared at him with a very bored expression, eyes blinking in a way that almost tricked Ben's eyes into thinking he saw circles under them.

"You're bringing me the tray." He said, simply. Ben gulped, a little, but extended it.

"...Th-The Countess told me to take it to you... she's sewing Jacci's dress up... so I had to leave the room, anyway..." He stammered, before the steward interrupted him, taking the tray from Ben's hands, calmly.

"Milady wants you to talk with me about something." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Ben didn't quite know what to say.

"Milady only does things like this when she wants me to interact with someone, for some reason." He continued, that same monotone voice calmly putting the tray on the counter next to the sink, before pulling out two chairs next to the table. Ben sat, but on the very edge, as though he thought the seat was made of red hot iron.

"What was your discussion about?" The steward asked, folding his hands on the table. Those eyes were starting to creep Ben out, but he didn't say anything. Maybe it had something to do with how the iris wasn't exactly round- it was a little... elongated... the slightest bit oval shaped, but, since the steward's eyes were always half-lidded, Ben couldn't tell for sure. And... Ben hadn't noticed it earlier, but there was something odd under his lower eyelid... his lower eyelashes closest to the outside of his eyes seemed to be especially long, especially for a man, but Ben couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with them.

"Well..." Ben said, arms firmly at his sides, hands gripping the edge of his chair, "...The first thing I started to talk about was... since last time, I'd left with the Countess telling me to think about why people are jealous... and I figured out my answer..." The steward nodded, urging Ben to go on, "And... I had a question... about why jealousy occurs... because... I'd figured out why people are jealous... but... I didn't understand why they felt the NEED to be jealous... if you understa-" Ben stuttered to a halt, as the steward's eyes rested on him with such an intense gaze that Ben's voice cracked.

"That's probably it, then..." He mused, but didn't elaborate until he asked the next question, "...What exactly was your question, as you asked Milady?" He questioned. Ben blinked, then thought back.

"...My question was... why can't people recognize their own qualities... why they can only see the bad things about themselves... and they need another person to tell them about their good qualities..." Ben said, eyes raised to the ceiling as he tried to remember if there were any other points he was missing.

The steward nodded as he listened, before he finally let out a sigh.

"...Why does the Countess think you can answer that question?" Ben finally asked. The steward gave him a very very bland look.

"Perhaps it's something called 'faith'..." He finally answered, before he spoke again, "To answer your question, allow me to use an example... I'm not as good at this as Milady is, but I'll do my best..." Ben blinked, then scooted a little closer, to show he was listening, "Have you ever been told fairy tales when you were little?"

Ben frowned, but nodded.

"And the major point that gets the story started is when there's a king and a queen who rule justly over a vast and peaceful kingdom where all are prosperous and happy, but they have no children?"

Ben nodded, again, thinking that he was beginning to understand where this was going.

"It's the same case for anybody who feels envious of the things they see in other people. The same as admiration, but the desire to be like that is combined with the bitterness and self-loathing that you aren't." The steward explained, keeping those strange eyes fixed on Ben's face, closing as soon as Ben nodded with understanding.

"So... it's because they have traits or things that they don't necessarily want that they can't see it..?" Ben surmised. The steward didn't respond, shifting his arms to press his hands against his mouth, as though thinking about something. Ben leaned in a little more, prodding, "...Steward?" He asked.

"Call me Gornash." The steward interrupted, and when Ben just stared, he explained, "That's my name- just don't tell your parents."

"...Gornash, then... was that the right way to phrase what you were saying?" Ben asked. Gornash's strangely shaped eyes turned on Ben for a moment, before he shrugged, staying silent for a long time before he spoke.

"Milady is envious of your parents." He said, quietly. Ben stared, openly gaping this time, as the statement was so blatantly impossible.

"What? But there's nothing that my parents have that she could want..." He argued- oh, sure, they were Jedi, but since the Countess didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about those things, he doubted she'd want to be like that, and thus far, the only ways that he'd observed the Countess not being like his parents were in ways that were only good.

Gornash turned, frowning at Ben, making a shiver go up Ben's back, before his gaze soften, but not relax. It simply returned to that standard neutral.

"They have each other." Gornash said, quietly.

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out, so he shut it again and felt incredibly foolish.

Gornash's eyes remained focused on Ben's face, but as Ben had hung his head, he didn't notice the slight change from green to a clear, sea blue.

Ben stood up and wandered back up to find the Countess and Jacci again.

"Perhaps all people who do bad things... are just lonely..." Gornash finally said, more to himself than to the retreating Ben, before he turned away to wash the cups.

* * *

Ben walked home with several volumes that the Countess called 'Books' in his hands- most of them were maps, atlases, and other interesting things that Jacci had enjoyed when she was younger and the Countess apparently thought Ben would enjoy them.

The top one, however, was for his father, but Ben didn't quite understand why his father would need it.

On the whole, he'd never been quite as uncomfortable leaving the Countess's house- part of it was because, when he'd returned from his discussion with Gornash, she'd asked him how his search for the supposed murderer was going. Part of him was uncomfortable with how the Countess had almost been light and treated it like a game, but the rest of it was because he'd had to lie and say 'It's going great!' when, in reality, he hadn't even told his parents the truth yet.

Upon reaching home, Ben immediately found his father and went to greet him.

"Hi dad." Was the best Ben could come up with, but when his father looked up, Ben was relieved to see him smile.

"Home already? And what do you have, there?" He asked, before Ben proudly showed him.

"They're called 'Books.' The Countess thought I'd find them interesting." Ben explained, before he remembered the one addressed to his father, pulling it out of his stack of volumes, "And the Countess wanted me to give this to you- she said you would find it useful for something." Ben extended it to his father, who's expression became unreadable for a moment, before he apparently recovered.

"Dad?" Ben asked. Ben's father closed his eyes, took a breath, and then smiled again, but it looked forced compared to before.

"So, what else happened while you were over?" Ben jumped about a meter in the air as his mother's voice appeared behind him. After managing to calm down Ben moved over so his mother could come fully into the room, before giving a detailed version of the strange machine that the Countess had been making cloth with, until he remembered something he'd meant to ask his parents about.

"...Mom... Dad... Did you ever know somebody by the name of 'Gornash'?" Ben asked, as innocently as he could manage.

His mother and father disguised their expressions so well, it could almost be considered an art they had mastered, but their emotions flickered just enough that Ben suddenly understood why the Countess's steward didn't want him to tell his parents.

"...It sounds vaguely familiar... where did you hear it?" His father finally said, but Ben was on his guard, again.

"When I was talking with the Countess, she referenced somebody called 'Gornash' in the discussion, and I thought it sounded too much like a real name to be a character from a story or something like that." Ben lied, naturally. He saw his father considering it, but then shrug with a slightly amused smile.

"I probably know who it is, but I can't think of the person off the top of my head." His mother lied. Ben nodded, slowly, before he stood and left, hoping to go find Nanna again.

* * *

"You've heard the name before?" Luke asked his wife, leaning forward and putting his forehead in his hands- stress was one thing, but, apparently, having your one and only son right in the thick of it was a new species of headache waiting to breed.

Mara's face melted into a scowl.

"When I was one of the Emperor's Hands..." She said, quietly. Luke looked up in alarm, before Mara leaned sideways, putting her head on Luke's shoulder.

"The Emperor organized a secret society of Dark Siders who Palpatine recruited to act as tools of propaganda, as well as to convert any Force-Sensitives so they didn't become Jedi. They'd been a society for a few years, but, unlike the Sith, they didn't have whole power displays or go against the Jeid... kind of like the Council, except they were never seen in action. They called themselves The Prophets of the Dark Side. And among them, one of them was a minor prophet named Gornash." Mara explained. Luke's face darkened.

"I remember there being a driving force like that which tried to keep order in the remnants of the Empire after Palpatine's death, when different warlords and officers tried to make a grab for power..." Luke agreed, "But... they were either captured by the Alliance or killed by their rivals inside the Empire." Mara snorted, softly.

"Oh and that isn't the half of it- there was a 'Church of the Dark Side', but it wasn't headed by the real Prophets, but by a group of con artists who just wanted power, and used as a propoganda tool by the ressurrected Emperor. And, to make matters worse, they used the names of the Sith Lords they impersonated... But, either way, you're right- they all were killed."

"Except for this one, if he's still around to be mentioned." Luke concluded, before Mara let out a sigh.

"And we can't even be sure if it's really a Sith, or if it's just a failed con man who's on the run from the one big con that went bad." She added with a grimace.

"Furthermore, we can't even tell if he's really still alive, or if the CMC was mentioning in a past tense..." Her husband finally finished. Luke lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his temples. His wife snickered, suddenly, before Luke looked down to see what had piqued her amusement.

"'How to care for small mammals?'" She asked, lifting the book the Countess had sent back with Ben, "Thinking of getting a pet, Farmboy?" Luke heaved a much-put-upon sigh.

"The Countess said that she'd send me something useful to help me be a better father. Apparently, this is the 'Something useful'..." He explained. Mara made a face, then used the book to whap her husband right over his receding hairline.

"She's making fun of you, Farmboy." She noted, dryly. Luke shrugged, and tried to appear hopeful.

"Maybe it's an indirect compliment to our genetics, if she thinks Ben's cute...?" He suggested. Mara rolled her eyes, but let it drop.

* * *

"You said 'Don't tell your parents?' Gornash, you idiot- of COURSE he's going to tell his parents." Snarled Tilus, whom was sitting on the floor with a basket of doughnuts. Gornash remained in his chair, pen tapping nervously against the table as he stared down at the book before him.

"Tilus, that's not a nice thing to say." Said a soft voice as the Countess entered. Tilus' beady eyes turned on the Countess and he fell silent. Gornash's eyes turned upwards, respectfully, before the Countess pulled away the book before him.

"Gornash, you should know better- every time you try to balance a checkbook it makes you nervous." She chided, mildly. Gornash didn't meet her gaze.

"In any case, Sieur Ben now knows your name... and if he tells Commander Skywalker and Miss Jade..." Tilus finished the thought.

"They'll begin to suspect YOU- what if they figure it out?" He asked, spraying crumbs everywhere, then immediately diving after them.

"They won't." The Countess's voice was blank, but Tilus paused in his chase after the wasted crumbs at something in her words, while Gornash stood and walked behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I don't want, nor need sympathy right now." Her tone was sharp, as though reprimanding Gornash for something he'd done wrong. Gornash's gaze hardened a little as the hand on his shoulder turned her around.

"I'm not being sympathetic- your top button is undone." He said, firmly, buttoning the topmost button of her shirt again. The Countess raised an eyebrow at him, then promptly undid the button again.

Gornash sighed while Tilus snickered.

Nobody heard the footsteps creeping away from the door.

* * *

Ben was surprised and confused when his parents told him to pack his bags- they were going to the Unknown Regions. Ben had a vague idea of why, but he didn't argue.

"Do you know where in the Unknown Regions?" Ben asked, as he got everything in place on the ship he would be, essentially living in with his parents for the next several weeks, maybe even months.

"We're going to be looking for your cousins, as well as for some friends that went with them." His mother explained, strapping down the survival gear, before she turned to him with a stern look, "This time, you're going to be staying with Nanna the whole time- if you wander off from her, you are going to be in trouble like you could never imagine." Ben gulped, and he had a feeling it had been audible, "Do I make myself clear?"

She hadn't, really, but Ben knew better than to say that. He nodded.

"Good." His mother left the room, leaving Ben to sulk until he heard something tap against. Alarmed, Ben got out of his chair and hid behind it, eyes very wide and focused on the spot the noise had come from- a plate of the floor tiling was moving.

Nanna had sensed it too, as she moved to cover Ben in case of an intruder. The tile moved again, then a third time, and finally came loose enough to lift. Nanna lifted her arm, a hidden blaster stowed inside and practically shot as a head poked out of the floor.

Ben let out a squeal of excitement, which his mother apparently heard.

"Ben?" She called.

"I thought I saw a spider- it was just lint!" Ben called back, quickly, before getting out of his chair and scurrying over to the removed panel of tiling on the floor, where Jacci was smiling back at him.

' ' What are you doing here ? ' ' Ben asked, as he took one of Jacci's hands to pull her out of the compartment in the floor she'd stowed away in.

' ' I heard you were going away , and I wanted to say goodbye . ' ' Jacci explained. Ben scratched the back of his head, uncomfortably.

' ' But we're about to take off . What if you can't get back home in – Ben's statement was never completed, because, at that moment the engines roared. Jacci got back into the compartment and put the cover back on, while Nanna strapped Ben into his seat, and the next moment, they took off.

* * *

"This month has been one crisis after another." Han muttered through gritted teeth to Leia as they geared the _Millennium Falcon_ for takeoff. Leia didn't have a chance to reply- she was busy with the navicomputer.

"If it makes you feel any better, Luke and Mara are also coming along. And, if I'm not incorrect, it feels like Saba is coming with them." She finally said when she got the chance. Han made a face.

"They're bringing that lizard teacher of yours?" He asked, with distaste, but catching Leia's raised eyebrow, "I'm just saying that the Order is already five Jedi shorthanded right now, so to haul out Luke and Mara AND Saba, along with yourself..."

Leia's features softened.

"You know, Jaina's probably going to demand the same thing when we catch up to her." She said, amusedly. Han snickered a little, before he sobered.

"Then, you can practice on me so you have a prepared answer for her." He replied, noting the lack of answer, which made Leia smile.

"The response to anyone who asks that will be 'The situation warranted it'- Luke told me to say that if we found Jaina before him." She replied, and when Han gave her a look as though to say 'Is that the BEST you can do?', Leia continued, "And if push comes to shove, I'll use the 'Because I'm your mother and I say so' argument."

Han's face fell.

"When has Jaina ever listened to THAT?" He asked, disappointed in his wife's intellect and memory. Even Leia sighed, as though admitting that her foolproof plan was nowhere near as foolproof as she'd pretended.

"Never. Not even as a kid..." She admitted, before she let out another sigh, "...Things are changing too quickly for them... and I don't even think it's growing up, really..."

Han understood- in reality, it was as though their children were trying to grow up, but something was forcing them into growing down.

Han was quiet for a moment, too, before he looked over to the dashboard and realized they needed to go to lightspeed for the Unknown Regions now if they were going to keep up with the Skywalkers. Otherwise, he would go over and give Leia a hug.

"Strap down, we're making the jump."

Leia strapped down, but said nothing more.

* * *

"Mom, Dad, could I have some gelmeat?" Ben asked, peering around the door as soon as he was let out of his straps from the take off. His parents were still strapped down, but Nanna had refused to let him have any food so soon after take off without his parent's permission.

His mom didn't even turn around.

"Why do you want some gelmeat?" She asked, apparently concentrating on something on the dashboard.

"Just a little bit- I won't eat a whole can, but Nanna says it makes you sick to eat so soon after take off." Ben said, and while his parents didn't turn to look at him, the third chair turned revealing the Barabel, Saba.

Ben let out an involuntary squeak and tried to hide by flattening himself against the wall. It wasn't that he didn't like Saba- he just didn't like the way she looked at him, like he was a perfectly grilled nerf steak.

"Nanna sayz that, does she?" The Barab sissed, while Ben shivered a little bit- her voice was also kind of creepy, especially as she had a tendency to flash that forked tongue of hers as she said most of her Senths and Shens.

"Well, you tell Nanna that's just an old wives tale and that Mom and Dad say you can have two or three slices. We'll take a look at her memory chips when we land, just in case something's wrong with her." Ben's father said, also not looking back. Ben did his best to grin and then quickly made himself scarce, finding the protector droid and giving her the straight argument. Nanna gave in and allowed Ben his requested gelmeat, only for the redheaded boy to disappear to his room and pull up the loose tile. Jacci's head peeked out of the space she'd been hiding in as Ben handed her the food.

"It's the best I could do- mealtime isn't for another few hours." Ben whispered, quietly. Jacci lifted both her hands and took the gelmeat with one and signaled 'Thank you' with the other. She ate quickly, then pulled herself out and the two of them began to talk.

' ' Who're you looking for ? ' ' Jacci asked. Ben shrugged, kicking his legs.

' ' Jacen , Jaina , and some friends of theirs disappeared here , so that's probably who it is . ' ' He replied- Ben was glad they had this way of communicating, since Nanna wouldn't be able to hear them.

' ' How long do you think it'll take ? ' ' Jacci asked, her own legs swinging. Ben shrugged, lost on the topic.

' ' If Jacen and Jaina don't want to be found , it could take months . They're not as good at it as Mom and Dad , but they'll make it really hard . ' ' He told her. Jacci made a strange face- almost like she was both happy and unhappy about this revelation at the same time.

' ' Neh-Nii-Kah's going to be upset that I'm missing . ' ' She said, in that same hesitant manner that made Ben wonder if she was hiding something.

' ' Maybe you could call her on the comsystem when we get out of lightspeed . ' ' Ben suggested, before Jacci gave him a look.

' ' Neh-Nii-Kah doesn't have connection to the comsystem . We write letters or deliver personal messages . ' ' She told him, and Ben suddenly recalled that, indeed, the Countess had never sent messages on a comlink or message screen.

' ' Oh ' ' He answered, sheepishly, before he thought for a moment, ' ' . . . But there has to be a way to get in contact with her to tell her you're here so she doesn't panic . . . ' ' He insisted.

Jacci looked away, almost guiltily. Ben stared at her, but didn't press it.

' ' Well ' ' Ben began, trying to find something to say, ' ' By the time this trip is done , we'll be nice and sick of each other . ' ' He offered, helpfully.

Jacci gave him another look, then smiled.

It was the same smile his father had given him when he'd mentioned the name 'Gornash.'

* * *

Jaina's first thought upon landing had been 'Well, this sucks.' She held her tongue and said nothing, instead focusing on what they'd come here for. Tahiri was mostly silent, Lowbacca had gone missing, again, Zekk was focusing on a mechanical error that had mostly wrecked all of their ships, and Jacen had gone his own way, doing his own thing. As far as she could see, she was well within her rights to at least swear a little.

Also, Jaina couldn't shake this sneaking suspicion that this recovery mission should NOT have been going THIS badly.

Tesar's head poked over the ground that their team had been scouting.

"This one thinkz something can be found, here." He sissed, causing Jaina's head to snap around like on a string.

"What, Tesar?" She asked, spirits rising to the thought of perhaps recovering Lowbacca or finding whoever had made the summons.

As she started up the hill towards Tesar's position, several other heads popped up. Then, their bodies. Then more heads and more bodies.

"Welcome committee, this one thinkz."

* * *

It had taken a lot of effort to get away from everyone to go back on his search, but Jacen had managed it reasonably well. Jacen had told himself that he had meant to spend five straight years, but... Ben...

Jacen was bothered by the fact that he'd been swayed by his cute little cousin, but refused to dwell on how much it bothered him. Instead, he went about his journey to keep his thoughts elsewhere.

The planet Pydyr came into view as he guided his fighter down, through the orbit, into the atmosphere and finally resting on the ground outside the Temple dedicated to the Fallanassi Order.

A seemingly young woman was waiting for him, and Jacen knew that his appearance was not unexpected by them. He only gave the woman a curt nod as she led him inside. Jacen didn't ask where she was taking him, nor why, given how he knew perfectly well that he was being taken to see the leader of the Order- Akanah Norand Goss Pell.

Right outside the chamber that Jacen could only presume Akanah was awaiting him inside, he suddenly felt some severe jolt- something pulling him back, away from the door. It was so unexpected as a sensation, Jacen felt himself jerk. The Fallanassi who had been leading him in turned in alarm, but Jacen steadied himself, assuring her it was nothing. She blinked at him, curiously for a moment, but apparently decided he was telling the truth- perhaps she was still a new adept?- and let him inside the room.

As soon as the doors shut behind him, Jacen felt the same sensation, this time so powerful that he was pulled to his knees. Something in the Force was pulling him away, telling him this was not the place he needed to be.

These were not a new sensation- Jacen had felt them since he'd entered the system, but the sudden force of these pulls were something that made Jacen wonder if it wasn't the summons in the Force that was calling him to the Unknown Regions causing them.

"Jacen, are you alright?" Akanah hadn't stood up, but she was no longer composed or serene, an actual sense of concern radiating through the Force. Jacen looked up and was alarmed to feel his vision blur before his head cleared. He shook his head once, then stood, but the moment his eyes opened again, he almost stopped again, this time out of pure shock.

He could SEE it... there was something hanging in the air about Akanah, something that he couldn't really describe, if someone had asked him to put the visual sensation he was having into words, but he could TELL what wrong with her. Her features were all the same, her body type the same- she looked and acted and moved the exact same way as his Uncle Luke had known, but to Jacen, it was glaringly obvious what the difference was.

Jacen kept his expression carefully schooled, and politely asked the courtesy questions that Akanah asked him- "Was your travel safe?", "Yes, thank you.", and so forth, until Jacen grew weary of pretending.

"Enough games." He finally said, as Akanah looked innocently curious, "Where is the real Akanah Norand Goss Pell?"

The fake Akanah drew back with an expression of appropriately dignified insult, as though she was about to say 'I BEG your pardon' but was too proud to say it.

"I know you aren't really her- now where is she?" Jacen demanded, his gaze turning into a glare. The woman sat up straighter, almost stiffly, her face stony, like a strict, old and formal grandmother about to scold her grandchild for misbehaving in this room.

"I cannot tell you." Was her stern reply. Whether it was because she didn't believe it was her place to divulge the information, or because she didn't know, Jacen couldn't tell, but he didn't care- he'd come to the Fallanassi in search of enlightenment in other ways of the Force, under the impression that it would be Akanah who would be teaching him but the sudden revelation that he'd been deceived flared an anger in him that he hadn't thought possible. Almost an anger as though he'd been dealt a grave injustice.

"I'm sure you can't." Jacen sneered, deciding that being agreeable was the best tactic to deal with troublesome Fallanassi who wouldn't tell the truth, "I'm sure it's too embarrassing." It got a rise out of the woman, certainly- her stony face twitched and just the slightest bit of color came to her cheeks, but her gaze remained firmly blank.

Jacen forced himself to remain civil.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you and wasted your time- I'll leave, now, and keep the secret firmly sealed and save the Fallanassi the shame." He stood and turned to leave, but his words had obviously struck a nerve- and a particularly sensitive one, as it made the most dignified user of the White Current ruffled.

"You know nothing of it!" Declared the impostor Akanah, rising to her feet, angrily. Jacen paused for a moment, as the woman had no intention of leaving it at that, "Akanah brought shame on her own head- the Fallanassi have no part in it! It was the will of the Current!" Jacen actually stopped and turned fully around, noting with amusement how angry this woman truly was- he could see her shaking.

"Perhaps you should explain things so that I do understand." He suggested, not able to keep the threatening tone out of his voice, "I'd hate to spread a nasty reputation for the practitioners of the White Current simply because I didn't hear the whole story."

The woman's brown eyes, which Jacen suddenly realized, were artificially colored, flashed before she schooled herself. Jacen could feel a tug at the corner of his senses and glared, one hand shooting out.

The woman before him flickered, then disappeared, behind a wall, which quickly came towards Jacen, along with four others that were closing in on him.

Jacen shut his eyes and reached, fingers closing around the woman's neck, apparently frightening her enough that when Jacen opened his eyes again, the illusions had all disappeared.

"Your illusions are useless for a person who isn't effected by them." He warned, whispering dangerously. The woman actually looked panicked for a moment, before she regained her calm. But she didn't try the illusions again.

"Akanah was banished- her mental condition was in no shape to act as a mentor, nor to continue as a student of the White Current... She couldn't even care for herself. But I don't know where she is now, or what happened to her." The false Akanah was speaking through clenched teeth, as though she thought someone might be listening in, although Jacen's grip on her larynx might also have had something to do with it.

Jacen's face remained impassive, but he released her and left the room, unobstructed.

* * *

The first night had been kind of fun, almost like having a sleepover, except Ben had to do some very fancy talking to trick Nanna into ignoring Jacci's presence, which had moved into the closet which was a much safer environment than beneath the floor. The only real problem was how Ben had to be very careful in sneaking her food from the meal table so that it didn't leave crumbs, and he had to be very very careful trying to bring her small bottles of water, because Jacci kept saying ' ' I'm thirsty . ' '

By the second day, however, Jacci had not been such wonderful company- in the night, she'd been up frequently, sneaking to the lavatory, and thus, keeping Ben awake. But the day was worse, because Jacci didn't move that much, leaving long stretches of time where Ben simply sat in the closet with her, while she tried to rest her eyes.

Ben wondered if he should be trying to catch up on the sleep he'd missed last night, when something hit his leg. His eyes jerked awake before he realized Jacci had kicked him. With a bit of a pout, Ben attempted to demand what she'd done that for, before he saw her hand lift and her fingers weakly signal 'Sorry- accident'. Ben had stared for a moment, until, a few minutes later, he saw her legs jerk again. But they weren't really kicking- it was like someone was pulling on strings to make them move.

He was glad when mealtime came, even if it meant he had to face his parents and Saba, and by the time he was full, the awkward silence and impending guilt that Jacci was probably hungry was making him anxious to return to his room. But, as getting to the meal room was one thing, getting away was another matter altogether.

"Ben, where are you going with those rolls?" His father asked, catching Ben trying to sneak them back into his room for Jacci. Thinking quickly, Ben managed to come up with a rather convincing lie.

"Just for a snack... in case I'm hungry later... so I don't bug you and Mom, but it's still something healthy..." He replied, quickly. Ben saw his father consider the argument, then reach down and take two of the rolls away.

"A snack, maybe, but you don't need to horde half a dozen rolls." Ben's father said firmly, "Put some back."

Ben didn't argue, but carefully made sure he kept the two biggest rolls he could.

It was a wasted effort, as Jacci shook her head, curling up into a ball and signaling 'Not hungry'. Ben had to take a breath to keep from panicking, before tapping at Jacci, just a little, to uncurl her from her ball.

"Jacci...?" He asked, nervously, before Jacci looked up. There were tear treks going down her face and her nose was running, but Ben almost jumped backwards because of how puffy her eyes looked- a little less, and he might have just passed it off as being from crying or not sleeping the night before, but there was something really wrong with them, now. Her legs were shaking and Jacci kept shuddering, like she couldn't stay warm.

Ben managed to trick Nanna into lifting him into the extra supplies compartment for an extra blanket, saying he had been too cold the night before. Even the blanket didn't seem to help Jacci that much. And she wouldn't accept the Barabel fruit that his mother had been somehow delighted he wanted to try.

"Jacci... couldn't you at least try to eat?" Ben asked, quietly, after curfew. He knew Jacci couldn't reply, but, after a few minutes, he heard the noise of bread being pulled apart and chewed. He slept a little easier, even if he kept getting woken up after that.

The third day, however, was absolute hell, as far as Ben could see. Jacci wouldn't stop crying, and cringed away whenever Ben tried to touch her, as though she was afraid she'd bruise if he so much as tapped her. Her skin was even more pale, almost gray, and her eyes were swollen, just like her legs, and she kept panting, as though she couldn't breathe properly. Ben even heard something in her breathing, almost like there was something stuck in her throat that just wouldn't get clear, and Jacci kept shivering, and clutching her chest, like something was wrong, and, eventually, Nanna stopped listening to Ben's stories about how he was trying to clean his closet or fix a crack he saw in the wall.

Before midday even started, Ben tricked Nanna into showing him her power switch and promptly shut the droid down. That made it much easier for him to sneak food into the closet, he even managed to get her a double liter thermos full of water.

But, Ben thought, at least Jacci was eating. He was very careful to bring fruit and vegetables instead of gelmeat or nerfspread- he had the vague suspicion that those would only irritate her condition, but couldn't tell his parents out of sheer guilt that maybe the gelmeat he'd brought her on the first day was causing this, that perhaps, she was allergic to it or something. Jacci always gave them a look of deepest disgust, but she ate them, albeit carefully. Ben was also becoming anxious and restless for when they would reach their destination, so he kept going back to his parents in the control room to ask 'Are we there yet?'

"We aren't there yet, Ben- aren't you supposed to be playing with Nanna?" His mother asked, glancing over her shoulder. Ben snorted- he hated playing with Nanna, when there was nothing else to do. Her games were always so easy to win against her, and she was often easy to trick into losing. But more than that, Ben just didn't like being around her- Nanna was a droid with a programmed personality, not an actual person, which made Ben feel incredibly unimportant that a false person was his company instead of a real one. Not to mention the programmed personality Nanna had wasn't that great, anyway- it was all one-dimensional and bland. R2-D2 and C-3PO at least had little quirks and oddities that made them interesting to be with.

"Nanna's game module is for babies." He complained, "She tried to make me play Teeks and Ewoks once." His mother didn't seem to see the injustice in this statement.

"Why aren't you?" Was the next question. This time, it was his father who'd asked, which made Ben want to beat his head against the wall. Usually, his father could be persuaded to see reason in these situations.

"I switched her off." He answered. His mother's head snapped around, but not in a 'Did I hear that correctly?' manner- more like a 'I better NOT have heard that correctly.'

"How? Her switch is hidden under her neck armor." She asked, though more like an interrogation.

Ben sighed, wondering if he shouldn't have even said anything.

"I tricked her into bending over and showing it to me." Ben replied, looking anywhere but his mother's face, but he still heard her unamused squawk, before she started talking something about pulse-shielding on Nanna's circuits.

"How do you think she's going to feel after an emergency shutdown?" His mother demanded. Ben grinned, knowing fully well how Nanna would 'Feel'.

"Stupid." He replied, partially wanting to get a rise out of his parents, "I've only done it to her three times before." Ben jumped, then shrunk against the door frame as Saba's tongue flickered out along with the hissing noise of amusement, then his father's reaction.

"You have?" He demanded. Ben tried to shrink away, able to feel exactly how worried and pissed off his father was. It didn't help that his father felt the need to pull him fully onto the flight deck.

"Promise me you won't do that again." Ben heard his father say. Ben snorted a little, not looking his father in the eye- didn't they trust him? He could take care of himself well enough, "Nanna can't protect you if you shut her down."

Oh, it was _so_ nice to know they placed so much value on Ben's ability to defend himself, or at least know how to run away.

"If she's that stupid, how can she protect me anyway?" He asked, sullenly, "A Defender Droid's not supposed to be dumber than her kid." Seriously- if an enemy got onto the ship and told a convincing enough lie to Nanna that he was a friend, or that the box he was putting in Ben's room was a surprise present or something, the whole ship could be bombed. Ben's father didn't look like he was in the mood to argue, and promptly sent Ben back to turn Nanna back on.

Ben resisted the urge to say 'I'm going because I want to, not because you're telling me to.' as that would almost certainly give away the hidden Jacci in his closet.

On his return trip, Ben found Jacci in the closet shuddering much worse than before. There were bruises on her skin that he knew hadn't been there before, but she wouldn't stop moving around, even as she kept rocking in a manner that sent her crashing into the wall and door. There was a string of blood trailing out of her nose along with the mucus and Ben didn't need his empathy- which had never worked in Jacci's case, anyway- to tell him that she was in quite a lot of pain.

The situation went from bad to worse as she threw up.

Ben could even distinguish between the bread and the fruit, some pieces still completely intact as her hair fell over her face and turned from white to brownish yellow and green as the chunks of half digested food stuck to strands of hair.

The first person Ben could think of to go to was his father- Ben knew that, out of his two parents, his father was the one with more experience with healing and medicine, but also because he didn't trust his mother to stay calm and actually help.

"Dad, I need you to come- it's really important!" Ben's voice was slightly shrill and breathless as he rounded the corner, and got into the room. Ben saw his father's head snap around, almost alarmed, before he cast an uneasy glance back at the controls he'd been working with. Saba got up from her station and walked over. Ben didn't even recoil, his sense of urgency overriding all self-preservation instincts.

"This one will watch the starz pathz." The Barabel informed Ben's father, giving him a shove in the direction of his son. As his father wasn't walking nearly fast enough for Ben's comfort, Ben seized his arm and pulled him as fast as he could.

"Ben, what's this all about?" His father asked, not without impatience. Ben's insides quaked to think about the lecture he was going to get, but managed to reply.

"It's just really, really, really urgent!" Ben panted back, as he was still mostly having to pull his father's weight along the corridor, "You can yell at me all you want later, but right now, I REALLY need you to help me with this..." Ben didn't see his father's face, but he started to walk briskly under his own steam.

The way his father raised his voice when they got to Ben's room was something Ben hadn't expected.

"This is where all that food was going, wasn't it?" He demanded. Ben didn't look at his father, almost crying with frustration. Jacci was shivering and cowering away from the loud noise, blood and vomit trailing from the corners of her mouth and long white hair now a thorough mess. At least most of it was water, but it still scared Ben and Jacci enough to make the situation urgent.

"Dad- you can yell at me later, but I don't know what's wrong with her!" He pleaded, ignoring how his father glared at him, but managed to pull Jacci out of the closet.

"Ben, get the medkit." He ordered, and Ben immediately obeyed this time, too scared to do anything else.

By the time he had returned, Ben's father was trying to make Jacci swallow some more water, but her hands kept shaking too badly to hold the cup and she kept coughing and gagging on anything in her mouth. Her face had been cleaned off, but her nose wouldn't stop bleeding, while Ben's father had rolled up Jacci's sleeves to get a good look at the bruises all over her arms, which were getting darker. Ben could even feel how worried his father really was- genuine, actual panic at not knowing what to do.

"Jacci..." Ben whispered, quietly, while his father pulled some bacta swabs out of the kit and tried to at least stop the bleeding in Jacci's nose. While it didn't work, it also didn't make the bleeding worse, and the same treatment of bacta patches didn't seem to have any effect on a red rash that had also appeared on Jacci's skin, or her swollen eyes, or the bruises that dotted her body, "Dad, what's wrong?" Ben asked, anxiously, as his father continued to frown, shutting his eyes and focusing.

"Her blood isn't clotting, and in a situation like that, bacta is useless. And this swelling is fluid retention, so we can't do anything about that." Jacci was shaking even worse now, nose beginning to run again and tears spilling down her cheeks, before she lurched, gagging on air as there was nothing left in her stomach to regurgitate, "I don't know what this is..." Ben's father finally admitted, and Ben could feel that he was truly upset and worried about Jacci's health at this point, "The best that I can think is to keep giving her water to drink to keep her hydrated, and try to keep her warm."

Jacci wasn't making any noise because she couldn't, but Ben could tell she would be screaming in pain if she could have, before he stuck his hand out and carefully gripped one of Jacci's, deciding to talk to her while his father went to get a heat pack and some more water.

' ' Tell me what's wrong , Jacci . . . ' ' He asked. His finger movements were firm, leaving no room for argument, but Jacci shook her head, sniffling.

' ' Can't ' ' Was all she said. Ben bit his lip, wondering if it meant that Jacci didn't know what was wrong, or if she just didn't want to say.

' ' Do you know ? Or are you just too scared ? ' ' Ben asked. Jacci shook her head and didn't clarify which question she was saying 'No' to. Ben kept his hands as steady as he could, and tried to ask again.

' ' Jacci we need to know please tell me ' ' Ben stopped using grammar at this point, unless it was really necessary- to signal a comma where the break could be sensed naturally was just wasting time.

Jacci kept shaking her head and answering ' ' Cant cant cant cant ' ', also having abandoned grammar.

Ben heard footsteps too light to be his father's and not scratching enough to be Saba's. That meant it was his mother, he realized before he saw his mom come around the doorway, obviously responding to a call from his father.

"WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?" She demanded, stopping short at the sight of Jacci, shivering and crying on the medical bench. Ben heard his father's voice reply,

"A stowaway- how's that for fresh?" Before he reentered with a heating pack and a thermos of water, which Ben's mother took from his hands and strode promptly over to Jacci to take the medical treatment into her own hands.

"Look away or cover your eyes- this is woman's work." She instructed Ben and his father sharply, which Ben quickly did. He heard the noise of the zipper on Jacci's dress come undone, then a loud sniffle. Jacci's hand stopped shaking, so Ben assumed that the heating pack was doing it's job, but he then heard a loud cough and the sound of water splattering, which meant Jacci wasn't able to swallow the water.

Then, the ship lurched as a loud BANG was heard and something crashed into it. Ben quickly braced himself, and heard a crack, followed by an empathetic sensation of incredible pain, pain so horrible that he couldn't even keep his own stomach down and ended up splattering a much messier stomachful, as he recognized his first contact with Jacci's emotions, realizing that, as he'd suddenly been jerked but hadn't let go of her hand, he must have just broken her arm.

"JACCI!" He shouted, turning back around. Jacci's dress was half zippered again and he could see the corner of the heat pack pressed against her back along with even more bruises, some even darker and swollen than the ones on her arms, but Jacci's face was contorted as though she were screaming but someone had turned the volume off. Her arm was twisted in it's socket as her other hand clutched at it. Ben didn't know if he should hold her or stay back and not hurt her more.

"What was THAT?" Ben heard his father's voice shout from some other room, but Ben didn't know and was too scared and sick to call back, anyway.

The shaking stopped and the ship steadied, before Ben saw Saba striding around the corner and pulling his mother to her feet.

"Thanks, Saba." He heard his mother whisper, before Saba sissed a 'Your welcome.'

"This one received a transmizsion." Saba said, in a voice that made Ben curious, and he felt Jacci stiffen, "The CMC is alongside our bow and wishez to board."

A/N: A-and... that's where I'll end it. If you can figure out what was wrong with Jacci, you get a prize, as well as some guaranty you'll pass your exam for your doctors degree.


	12. Chapter 11

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: I've been hearing very, very little from you guys... even if you don't like the way the story is going, at least leave me some note about why. Things are going to be more complicated from here on out. And, Llyda-san? I know you're reading this. Yes, I have been overdosing on Godchild.

Chapter 11:

The medicine was bitter, but Tycho Celchu swallowed it, anyway. He wasn't sure what it was- it had been so sudden over the last month or so... he at first thought his stomach was always upset because he'd come down with something, but then the nausea would fade and a horrible headache would replace it, then spasms, then occasional delirium. The medics couldn't figure out what was wrong with him either, to the point that one had even prescribed he go on a fast, thinking that something might be in the food he was eating, leaving him with nutritional supplements. It had done the trick, but Tycho felt tired and dizzy all the time with no sugar in his bloodstream.

Now, all that was left was the protein supplement.

"Tycho, would you like something to drink?" The former captain of the Rogue Squadron started, then turned to see his wife in the door. She was holding a pitcher of blue milk in one hand and a glass in the other. Combined with the elegant, mother-of-pearl dress she was wearing, Tycho wondered if she was trying to make him think he was looking at an angel instead of his wife. After a brief moment of examining this, he had to chuckle. Of course he was looking at an angel- she was his wife, after all.

"What's so funny?" She asked, her face still completely straight. Tycho ran a hand over his face, smiling, tiredly.

"You are my savior, you know that?" He joked, putting his hand over the one that was holding the glass. The hand was pure white, like snow, and cold, just like her personality had been when they first met, except, this time, it was because she was holding the frosty glass- Tycho could see little lines of condensed frost on it, as though she'd put it in the freezer. The way her fingers curved around it and held it, one would have almost thought her to be delicate, but he could feel the muscles under her soft skin- no matter what people thought of her, they never knew the real woman underneath that face. Sometimes, even Tycho thought he didn't know her.

The only thing that disrupted the smooth lines of her hands was that single, odd ring that she wore. It didn't seem like something she would wear, but it somehow fit her, in a strange way. Still, Tycho wished she wouldn't wear it.

Winter's stoic expression faded, ever so slightly, into surprise, before she smiled, just a little.

"Don't say that until you're better." She said, chiding lightly as she poured him a glass, "The protein supplements are always so hard for you to get down, I thought this might help."

Tycho accepted the glass with a grin.

"What would I do without you?" He asked, popping the pill in his mouth and quickly down half his drink. The milk felt cold and smooth going down his throat, somehow different from water or juice, which both whetted the inside of his mouth before they felt dryer or stickier than before. There was a surge of coolness behind his eyeballs, softening the ache that his sugar low had given them, and the rest of his insides felt chilled, like ice on a hot day.

"I don't know, really... Perhaps you'd have to get your own milk." Winter replied, teasingly. Tycho couldn't help but smile as he finished his glass.

Tycho had barely set his glass down before the shivering began- the relaxing cool was suddenly becoming a frigid iciness that made his veins throb. His stomach clenched and writhed like someone had forced a piece of dry ice down his throat and his face felt cold. Maybe it was spoilt?

"Tycho?" He barely heard his wife calling his name, "Tycho, what's wrong?" His skin was going numb, quickly progressing down to his muscles, and the bones in his fingers and toes felt like they would shatter in the brittle iciness. Tycho's insides heaved before he realized that he'd just coughed up blood onto the floor.

Tycho curled up, trying to warm himself. His limbs felt stretched and fragile, as though they'd been carved out of the thinnest ice and when he stretched out one of his arms, it felt as though a mile stood between him and his hand instead of the half-meter. His fingers didn't seem to respond to his command and his arm felt like it had been twisted down into a string's width. He tried to open his mouth to call for Winter to contact a medic- his eyes were going black and his ears were pounding so much that he could no longer see or hear enough to know if she hadn't already- before he rolled off the couch he'd been on, his head colliding with the table he'd put the glass down on and lights blinking before his eyes. The cold vanished.

Winter stared down at her husband's body, his head surrounded by a halo of crimson-gold blood as it stained into his hair, his arms splayed out like the wings of a dove that had been shot, before she finally whispered something into the silence.

"I'm sorry, Tycho..."

* * *

Ben's head was still whirling as the Countess flew into the room, grabbed her sister, then left. Ben wasn't entirely sure that was all that had happened, but as he did know that he had seen at least three Countess's, he knew it probably wasn't safe to move or ask questions yet.

As soon as the room stopped spinning, Ben found himself with an earful by his mother, whose anger wasn't even contained this time. Ben kept his mouth shut, too scared to talk back, mostly waiting for the Countess to reappear and tell them what had happened and if Jacci would be alright.

"Why didn't you tell us in the beginning that she was on board? We could have turned back when there was still time and none of this would have happened. And now, we're being delayed and this was urgent. Is this why you really shut Nanna down? What have we told you about lying?" Ben didn't interrupt her, especially since she was shouting. Ben's father was completely silent, keeping his eye focused on his son with a very disappointed glare, not saying anything against his wife, but not helping Ben, either.

Saba had disappeared into the control room again and was continuing to pilot the ship.

"What would you have done if something serious had happened? What if you tripped and hurt yourself on something and couldn't have come to get one of us? What if Jacci or you had accidentally cut yourselves? Nanna wouldn't have been able to help you or come get your father or myself. That was very wrong and very dangerous."

Ben wanted to cry, but he didn't- he couldn't. He knew that he was getting exactly what he deserved, especially because he still couldn't shake the fact that Jacci getting sick had been his fault. He was still very scared, deep down inside, that it had been all because of him that she'd even gotten stuck on the ship in the first place and that he hadn't known how to take care of her, almost as though he SHOULD have. What if this was some kind of punishment because he hadn't told his parents the truth about the night of the party and what he'd felt there, or because he'd rejected the Force for so long? But then, why was JACCI getting caught up in it? That wasn't fair- it was HIS mistake, not hers...

Ben kept staring at his feet, nodding and sniffing, trying not to cry or let his nose run. His mother didn't show any sympathy, either, and Ben was partially glad that she wasn't letting herself be swayed but at the same time, resentful that she couldn't understand how terrified he still was that Jacci had thrown up and fainted and that he'd even broken her arm, after all that.

There was a sliding sound as the door to the medical room, which the Countess had taken Jacci into, opened, then closed. The Countess's steward, Gornash, put a hand on his mother's shoulder and said, in a very polite, very quiet voice,

"Madame Skywalker, Milady would ask you to kindly shut up." Ben's mother stopped shouting, but only because she had turned to stare at Gornash in utter shock at his request. Ben glanced up, slightly, but only caught the grave expression on his face.

After a few moments, the door opened again and the Countess came out, peeling medical gloves off her hands. Ben noted, with some alarm, that they were shaking. The Countess breathed for a moment, before fixing Ben's mother with a very ugly look.

"Jacci is sleeping- scold your son elsewhere, because if you wake her up, I will kill you." The Countess voice was soft, but deadly and serious and something about it made Ben quake in his shoes, and not just because he knew his mother was going to shout at him later.

Ben could tell his mother was somewhat indignant, but the look on the Countess's face seemed to chase out any rapier wit that his mother would normally have returned with. In fact, he was quite convinced that the Countess was very serious, perhaps even, capable of her threat, and he was glad that his mother was at least smart enough to not argue.

"But before you go, I want to question Sieur Ben about what happened during Jacci's stowaway on this ship." The Countess's voice broke through his miserable inner monologue.

Both Ben and his parents sat and waited for the Countess to sit, before the questioning began. Ben didn't look the Countess in the face as she asked about how Jacci got on board, why she hadn't been contacted, and what her symptoms had been.

"It was an accident... She popped out of the floor and told me she'd just wanted to say goodbye before we left... and then... we took off... SHE was the one who got HIJACKED... not the other way around..." Ben protested, faintly when the question came up why Jacci had been on board at all. The Countess's eyebrows raised and there was a pause in her questioning, as though she were considering something.

"And why didn't you send your protector droid to alert your parents- she could have been sent back in one of the escape shuttles." The Countess asked, frowning. Ben looked up, at last, mouth gaping like a fish without water.

"...I... I didn't think..."

"THAT should have been a perfectly obvious solution." The Countess's tone was sharp and made Ben cringe. He looked back down at his knees.

"...I'm sorry..." He whispered, shuddering. He really wished the Countess would stop staring at him.

After a moment's pause, the Countess continued.

"What did she eat?" She asked, one foot tapping impatiently. Ben heard a shuffling of feet and looked up enough to see that Gornash had left the scene- probably going to prepare some tea or something...

"...I kept getting her food from mealtimes... anything I could sneak away... some bread... some fruit... some vegetables..." Ben squirmed, as the Countess's look grew even sharper, "...I don't really remember what kinds... but since she was getting sicker and sicker... I didn't bring her any junk food or anything... and stuff with Vitamins in it and stuff... and she kept asking for water, so..."

"That was prudent, on her part..." The Countess noted, gravely, "Was there anything else?" Ben squirmed in his seat, before it occurred to him.

"...I fed her some gelmeat on the first day... before she started getting sick... because there wasn't anything else I could get and..." The Countess frowned.

"What's gelmeat?" She asked, sharply, and Ben had the feeling that she wasn't talking about it's taste or texture.

"I'm not sure... I can get you some if you want to know..." Ben offered, but Nanna had beat him to it, bringing a single container of gelmeat into the room. Ben's gaze remained steadily downwards, and he knew his parents were both thinking that he'd been attempting to escape the scene and it would do him no good to try and tell them otherwise.

The Countess frowned, then rolled up her sleeves and promptly set to work on it.

"That is all I need to ask you- Madame Skywalker, continue your interrogation outside of my hearing range." She said, sharply, turning her back. Ben's mother pulled him out of the room by his collar, his father following before Ben heard his mother hissing in his ear.

"We will finish our discussion later, young man- I don't trust myself to keep calm enough to stay out of her hearing range. Go to your room, stay there, and if I hear anything- anything at all- out of you, I'll tan your hide, got that?" He'd never heard his mother's voice so fierce or angry, and certainly never in words like that. Ben wasn't entirely sure if she would follow through on her words, and under normal circumstances, he would have thought of ways to get around her restriction or otherwise make her give up the bluff, as he knew neither of his parents would ever try to whip him.

However, these were not normal conditions and Ben was too scared to argue. Some part of him was even more worried about Jacci now that she was in the Countess' care, especially given how the Countess had very willingly and very honestly threatened his mother, and that was just if she made any noise. Ben was starting to worry if the Countess might come hunting for his OWN head or send Gornash to dispose of him in the night... and when she found out what was in the gelmeat... what if he really HAD made Jacci sick... what if she'd been allergic, or if the gelmeat had spoiled, or if there'd been some kind of food poisoning in the gelmeat from the beginning or something like that?

For once in his life, Ben was anxious to have Nanna back on- stupid defense was better than any, particularly when one's life was on the line.

* * *

An hour or so later, the Countess found Luke fixing a reactor that had busted under the strain. Without a word, she rolled up her sleeves, tied her hair back with a ribbon, and crawled down with him, examining the leak.

"I'll hold the patch while you seal it." She said, tone not leaving any room for argument. Luke jumped, but was grateful for the extra set of hands, picking up the welder and fixing bolts around the edge. As soon as that was finished, Luke gestured to the box of washers by his knees.

"See if you can find a smaller one and some sealant- we might need it to keep the holes from leaking." The Countess did so, quickly providing the discs of metal to Luke's hand, then the sealant, holding each piece in place as Luke ran the brush of sealant over them to keep them airtight on the reactor.

"Now, what have we here?" Sissed an amused, raspy voice which made Luke's hair rise on end. The Countess tipped her head back so that her forehead connected with the floor and saw a clawed pair of feet.

"Saba..." Luke's tone was warning, but also pacifying. Saba just hissed with more amusement.

"This one seez a little hidden love nest? Or iz this a private conference and this one was eavesdropping?" Saba asked, tail curling on the floor where it rested. Luke rolled his eyes in aggravation and none too gracefully wiggled his way out from under the reactor, only to see the Countess had somehow or another slithered out, almost like an escaping vapor or a shadow.

"Usually a 'love nest' implies some rather unprintable extramarital adultery, and given how the both of us could just barely move OUT from underneath this reactor, I'm quite complimented by your high opinion of how flexible we would have had to be to even manage a kiss." The Countess replied to Saba with a very sweet smile. Saba's wrinkled face moved in a way that Luke hoped was glee and not anger, because if it was, the Countess was most likely going to find herself on the Barabel's dinner plate.

Saba's tongue flickered out.

"This one likez your fire- she just hopez you don't burn yourself..." Ah, so it was glee, then. Luke breathed easier, while the Countess extended a hand and shook with Saba, as though greeting someone who had been close to her heart in childhood.

"You needn't worry- poison, acid, blasters, rocks, and even a guillotine haven't yet left damage or even a scar." She replied, still smiling. It made Luke wonder if she was wearing a mask from how her muscles never even wavered, "I am the CMC, my good friend."

"Saba Sebantyne, one who hunts well." Luke's eye shifted to Saba, wondering who she was referring to, as well as HOW this description could POSSIBLY be applied to the tiny woman who was black from head to toe, except for the marble face of hers.

"In any case, there's still work to be done." The Countess politely bowed, stooping to pull up the tools Luke had mostly left scattered on the floor. Saba sissed, but walked away casting a yellowed eye back at Luke as though to say 'I know something you don't know'.

Luke reset the reactor, continuing with the mechanical fixings and the Countess, for the most part, held pieces in place and handed him the tools when he called for them. It made things a sight easier, even though Luke would say he could have done fine even if he hadn't had someone to hold tools for him.

"You two were getting snuggly in the reactor room while I was busting my ass flying this thing." Mara Jade confronted her husband when the mealtime came and the Countess vanished to check on her sister. Luke did his best to look puzzled.

"I was fixing the reactors- she volunteered to hold tools and give Artoo a break. What's so snuggly about THAT?" He asked, innocently. Mara's face was still dark and stormy, and Luke could tell exactly how aggravated she was, but none of it was really directed at him- she was still stressed out from the alarm Ben had raised, then compounded by the fact she hadn't had a chance to properly scold him, her frustration was thus being vented on the next best target.

"She was within three feet of you." Mara explained, with the air of feminine logic which had never made sense to him. Luke sighed, hoping to somehow calm his wife down before she lost her temper- it was never helpful if damage occurred while they were in space.

"Leia sometimes stands right next to me- sometimes I even put my arm around her shoulders, and you never say anything about THAT." Luke pointed out, but Mara's glare remained.

"She's family- she doesn't count." Mara replied, shortly, before a prompt interruption came in the form of the very object of their disagreement, poking her head through the door.

"Would the Masters Skywalkers and Sebatyne care for some of my steward's tea? It's his own recipe, and quite therapeutic." Luke had to sigh, wondering if this woman had bugged their ship to deliberately set herself up in good favor.

Nevertheless, it was indeed very therapeutic tea, and quite good, he had to admit as the four adults found themselves seated in a circle on the Countess's ship. He could even feel his wife's anger slowly seeping out of her, which was a great relief to him as Mara usually would go from very angry to very self-deprecating in her mood swings following a burst of rage.

"What's with the sudden desire to be pleasant and nice, all of a sudden?" Mara finally asked, casting the Countess a suspicious glance as she blew on the tea in her saucer to cool it before sipping. The woman in black shrugged.

"As an apology." She finally said, stirring her own tea. Mara raised her eyebrows, Luke frowned, and Saba sissed with understanding, tail thumping.

"Because you were rude and threatened Master Skywalker about your sister..." She nodded, tongue flicking out and smelling the tea, as though testing for poisons, before she drank. Luke blinked for a moment, but couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed at the lengths the CMC was going to to apologize.

"There's no need to apologize- stress causes us to say and do things we don't mean and there was no real harm done." The Countess raised an eyebrow at Luke and at first, he thought she was surprised at his ease of forgiveness, before she spoke.

"Master Skywalker, what makes you think I was insincere in my statement?" A slight shiver went up Luke's back, but he decided not to answer. Mara shifted, uncomfortably, before she finally smiled.

"In any case, if you were to follow through, it would be enough to make me shut up, but I'd give you a run for your money in terms of if you'd actually make good on your word." Mara said, smiling. Luke hid his smile behind the cup and saucer of his tea, knowing exactly how difficult the Countess would find it to kill his wife.

The Countess did not smile, but continued to watch his wife, as though she were thinking about something far and distant, before she shrugged.

"In any case, I must sincerely apologize for how I treated Sieur Ben, earlier." The Countess bowed her head again, but this time, both Luke and Mara were quite firm in stopping her.

"No- he got what he deserved and he LISTENED to you. That's more than WE can get." Mara was the one to speak, but Saba sissed a little, as though she would like to interject 'I could have gotten him to listen' but she was holding her peace.

"Be that as it may, Sieur Ben is YOUR son, not mine, and I was out of line to scold and berate him the way that I did. Even if you think I've done something helpful, it was against propriety." The Countess put in, firmly. Luke gave the Countess a long look as she drank her tea, wondering precisely where she learned this strange ability to be strict when she acted so light-hearted.

"Actually, we were thinking YOU should be the one to met out the punishment- we can't be as harsh as necessary with our own son." Mara said, surprising her husband as he had NOT been informed of this idea, before he realized that Mara was... testing her?

The Countess raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, before she turned to Saba.

"Might I inquire to your position in the Order, Sebatyne?" She asked, politely. Saba's tail twitched on the floor, but she smiled.

"This one is a Master- and with a son in the Knight rankz, too." Saba said, in the way that only she could which was proud, but not full of herself. The Countess seemed delighted to hear this, eyes brightening at the mention.

"Oh! A hatchling! He must look just like you." Saba's tongue flickered out with amusement at the compliment, while the Skywalkers shared a glance at how the CMC had avoided Mara's indirect line of questioning.

"And what iz the trouble with your own little one? Is she unwell or something elze?" Saba returned, having heard of Jacci's troubles from Mara in more detail than the moment she'd seen the two little ones in the medical room.

The CMC's smile faded very quickly, before she silently returned to her tea. Luke couldn't help but wonder what magic it was that kept her cup full, no matter how much she drank, before he noticed the steward with white hair standing over him, refilling his own cup, which answered his question. He, too, was auspiciously silent.

"...Jacci will be fine, thank you for asking." The Countess finally said, with a somewhat stiff smile. Saba's tail twitched again.

"This one asked what waz wrong- not if she would be alright." She replied, still not done with her first cup. The Countess's lips tightened, but she didn't seem to be eager to answer the exact question- Luke could see her already white hand tightening on her cup so her knuckles changed color.

"...It is not your concern, Master Sebatyne." The Countess's voice had turned from warm to sharp and clipped. Luke raised his eyebrows at her short attitude, before Mara, thankfully interjected.

"I think it's at least OUR concern, considering our son may have been indirectly responsible for..."

"He was not." The Countess snapped, "You may rest assured in that- he did more to help than cause harm." Luke jumped at the particular way her voice changed in her aggravation- it almost seemed to growl, like the scrape of a crashed speeder on gravel. He also could feel his wife's alarm and cautiously sent one eye flitting in Mara's direction- she wore an expression as though she'd suddenly heard some unpleasant sound from a long time ago, before Luke realized that he'd heard the Countess's voice sound, however briefly, like the Emperor's.

"This one saw bruisez all over your sister'z body- is something the matter that you need to hide?" Saba noted.

There was a crack, before the steward's hand quickly snatched the Countess's cup from her hands.

"Milady, please do not break the cups- I don't have extras." He said, sternly. Luke kept his eye on the CMC, but could have sworn that he HADN'T seen her hands even twitch.

"I believe you three still have a ship to pilot." She excused herself, turning her back on her guests and swiftly disappearing. With an awkward silence, the Jedi returned to their own ship and continued to pilot.

"I think you pushed a little too far, Saba." Mara finally said, but, with a slight frown, she did admit that her lizard-friend had brought up a very valid point that she and Luke had not considered. Even Luke recognized that they'd completely overlooked the chance that abuse might be a factor in Jacci's illness.

"It needed to be asked- this one waz doing what needed to be done."

Luke said nothing more, but the thought nagged at him as they made the jump to the Unknown Regions.

* * *

After a few hours, Ben came to his senses and his brain began to work on the problem of how to get out of the room without his parent's finding him. There were a few facts he had to contend with, but they were easy enough.

One: He had to see Jacci and make sure she was okay.

Two: His mother had reactivated Nanna.

Three: His parents and Saba might be anywhere on the ship.

Four: His mother had said that if she heard anything from him, she would tan his hide.

Five: He could probably assume his father would do the same thing if HE heard anything and Saba would most likely pounce, tear his arms off, and serve the rest of him up with steak sauce.

Ben thought for a few moments before he finally started talking to Nanna- this time, he started to take advantage of her moral education module and eventually worked up to a conversation about ethics and responsibility.

"So... if I made someone sick, would it be my job to make sure they're okay?" He asked, finally, and Nanna nodded.

"And even if someone else was taking care of them, it would still be my responsibility to help and see if there was anything I could do, right?" Ben pressed.

"I would say so..." Nanna agreed, and Ben was glad she was so dumb, since this would be relatively easy to do.

"So... let's say a friend of mine was on this ship, and I might have gotten her sick, but her sister is now taking care of her... I should still go to see her and ask her sister if I could help, right?" Ben continued and Nanna kept nodding.

"That is correct." She said, and Ben almost fell over himself with glee.

"So, I need you to take me to see her, then." He concluded, and as Nanna stooped to pick him up and comply, Ben added, "But we need to be very quiet- Mom said that if she heard any noise out of me, she'd tan my hide, and if any of them catches me, they'll kill me." Ben spoke in a whisper, but it did the trick.

Ben had never known that Nanna could move so silently, but she managed, going all the way through the ship without a sound and reaching the empty resting lounge of the Countess's ship without even seeing his parents or Saba. However, as they reached the medical room that the Countess had moved her sister into, Ben climbed out of Nanna's arms and peered through a crack in the door.

Inside, the Countess was standing over the bed Jacci was sleeping on- Ben could see Jacci's white hair splayed over the pillow- but there was something about how she was standing so unnaturally and stiff, like someone had forced an iron pole down her spine.

"Milady..." Ben almost jumped as he heard the voice of Gornash, but kept silent. The Countess, however, responded very viciously, slamming a fist down on the table next to the bed, breaking the glass of water that rested on it.

"GOD DAMN IT!" She shouted, which made Ben retreat and he didn't see anymore, but that didn't stop him from hearing, "...Bitch..."

"Milady, please..." Ben heard her steward say, softly, as though attempting to comfort her out of the temper she was in.

"I DON'T CARE- THAT'S WHAT SHE IS! A nasty, ill-tempered, selfish... bitch..." Ben wasn't sure who the Countess was referring to, but he was quite certain it WASN'T Jacci, "...they... they think... they DARE..."

Ben swallowed, but kept his ear to the door. He heard footsteps, then the rustle of cloth, like someone sitting down on a fluffy pillow.

"They're wrong then." He heard Gornash whisper, "But what I was GOING to say is that Sieur Ben is outside the door."

Ben let out a squeak, then jumped back as Nanna moved into defensive position as the door opened. The Countess seemed to tower at her full height of only 1.5 meters, but the fact that Ben was flat on the floor might have had something to do with that.

There was a very loud silence, before the Countess sighed and turned around again.

"Come in, then..." She said, with a tired sigh. Ben shakily got to his feet, but followed her in, Nanna not far behind.

"Sit." The Countess pointed to the spot at the foot of Jacci's bed, while she pulled over a chair and sat in it. Ben sat, and only then noticed how different the Countess looked- her clothes were still all black, but they were dirty and worn at the edges, sleeves rolled up, hands dirty with smudges of oil and grease, and her hair was down, but out of it's curls and stuck together in places.

She looked... old. It seemed very out of place with the Countess he'd seen up until now.

Ben said very little, before the Countess let out a heavy breath and Ben looked away, choosing to glance over Jacci- her face wasn't pale anymore, nor were her eyes puffy or any of the old signs, but, from her arms that were still over the blanket, he could see dark bruises, as though someone had poked her with a needle all over.

"...Is she gonna be okay?" He asked, quietly. The Countess took a moment to compose herself, before she answered.

"Jacci will be fine. This isn't the first time we've had an emergency similar to this." She explained. Ben glanced up, then back down at his friend. There was a needle stuck into her harm, a thin line of red coming from it. Ben felt sick, and looked away.

"...What did I DO?" He whispered. The Countess's eyes narrowed before she shook her head.

"You did nothing- this is something Jacci has lived with since birth. If anything, the gelmeat you gave her on the first day saved her long enough for me to get here." The Countess replied, sternly. Ben looked up, puzzled, before the Countess slowly began to explain, "Do you understand how the Human body works, anatomically speaking?" Ben shrugged.

"A little... but I don't know a lot of details..." He said, uncomfortably. The Countess seemed to consider this before she went into her explanation.

"Well... the most that you need to know to understand is that the Human body produces a great deal of waste in it's natural activity- and I'm not speaking of food and air. As the body works, cells die or secrete waste products, and these are deposited into the bloodstream. In short, just in natural, daily activity, Human blood becomes very dirty."

Ben flinched at this explanation- it was a very simple explanation, but also technical enough that Ben knew she wasn't trying to talk down to him.

"Ew." He offered, in a quivering voice.

"To get rid of the wastes in the bloodstream, the Human body has built in filters called the kidneys which clean the blood and send it back into the veins. If wastes build up in the bloodstream without being filtered out, a Human can get very sick." The Countess continued, before pausing, and Ben could tell it was very difficult for her to say this, "Jacci's kidneys, however, do not work. They never have, ever since she was born, because of the defects she suffered due to the unnatural circumstances surrounding her birth."

Ben swallowed, hard, feeling very, very small compared to the Countess.

"That's why she threw up, kept using the lavatory, and wouldn't eat. That's also why she kept feeling cold, having hard time breathing, and bruised easily- from anemia." She explained. Ben looked back down at Jacci, knowing now what that line of red coming from her arm was, "If she doesn't go through this at least every day, then she gets sick, just like you saw."

Ben felt something in his middle twist, and his arms and legs tingled and itched as though someone was pricking the insides of his own veins with needles. He suddenly wished that his mother had finished scolding him- the calm way that the Countess was speaking, not even raising her voice was very, very eerie.

"...But I still don't see how I could have possibly HELPED her..." Ben finally muttered. The Countess frowned, too, but she didn't berate him.

"I was a little surprised myself- considering that the gelmeat I sampled is mostly a junk food, it's incredibly high in high density lipoproteins. That bound itself to the wastes in Jacci's system and took them to her liver... while it didn't get them out of her system, the liver is better equipped to handle wastes than the bloodstream alone and the cells it comes into contact with." The Countess mused, not looking directly at Ben. He didn't really understand the whole thing about the lipoproteins or the liver or any of it, but it did make it more plain to him that Jacci was okay because there was something in the gelmeat that had helped her.

"...Can't... can't anything be done to help her?" Ben asked, worriedly. Jacci still looked very sick, despite the color and lack of swelling- as though her skin couldn't breathe and was clinging to her bones for support.

"Humans are born with two kidneys, but we only need one to live a normal life, really... if someone were of the right body and blood type, they could give a kidney to someone of whom neither kidneys work. I'd have done so long ago, except Jacci's body only accepts one, exact blood type and mine does not match."

Ben was quiet for a moment, pondering. Since, this time around, he'd at least been a little responsible for how sick she'd gotten BEFORE the Countess had come to help, there had to be something he could do... what if... Ben didn't know much about the whole blood-typing system, but he couldn't help but wonder- and hope- that maybe, just maybe, his might be that exact type that Jacci needed.

Before he could say anything, the door slammed open and Ben heard his mother's voice, deadly and very, very pissed, growling at him.

"BEN..."

The Countess's eyebrows raised.

"Sieur Ben, did you sneak out from your punishment to come here?" She asked, lightly, but Nanna had moved to defensive stance, again.

"Master Skywalker specifically said she didn't want to hear any noise- I am quite secure in the knowledge that neither of us made a sound as we came here, so it is perfectly within the rules." Nanna was saying to Ben's mother, though this didn't seem to lessen his mother's rage.

"Out of the way, Nanna." Ben wondered if he should hide, but realized that he couldn't do so in this room without putting Jacci, the Countess, or her steward, Gornash, in danger.

"I am afraid I can't do that, Master Skywalker- when there is a danger to the child, my programming..."

"Danger? I'm his MOTHER!" Ben heard his mother shout, and saw the Countess's face twitch in distaste.

"Ben said you would kill him if you caught him out of his room. Given your anger, his fear seems justified." Nanna was still calm, somehow, but Ben couldn't help but squirm, before Gornash interrupted.

"Madame Skywalker, this is a sick room, if you please..." He said, quietly, but, given the moment of temper the Countess had been having as Ben had watched, he knew that they were just trying to make his mother shut up. He didn't blame either the Countess or her steward.

"I don't care." Ben knew his mother was mad if she would snap like that, before the Countess got to her feet and pushed his mother, Nanna, and himself out of the room, leaving Gornash behind with Jacci.

"I was actually just considering taking up your offer to met out punishment for Sieur Ben, and now that you're here, I would like to discuss it with you." She said, quickly. Ben turned, confused, from the Countess to his mother, wondering when THIS had taken place, and he saw his mother look confused too, as though wondering when she'd offered what the Countess was proposing, "Since your son is determined to take responsibility, at least in part, for Jacci's condition, he will stay with her and care for her until she has recovered."

Ben saw his mother's eyebrow raise.

"I guess a little thing like medical training or lack thereof isn't going to stop you?" She asked, and the Countess continued to smile, eerily.

"Of course not- that is why his defender droid... Nanna, you call her?... will remain with him and activated, and in the event anything occurs beyond their ability to handle, she will come and retrieve me." The Countess explained. Ben felt a shiver go down his back, realizing that she was essentially saying Nanna couldn't be shut down, at any time, for any reason, if he was going to be watching Jacci.

"I see..." Ben heard his mother muse, and she actually sounded... pleased, which made Ben even more uncomfortable.

"What if something goes wrong?" Ben asked, hesitantly. The Countess's smile didn't waver.

"Then, you will have two options- one, you may fix the problem, either to your own ability or by sending Nanna to fetch me..." The Countess held up her finger, leaning over to see more eye to eye- except her eyes were closed with that creepy smile of hers- before she held up a second finger, "OR... you may accompany Jacci's spirit over to the other side while I hide your remains in a place that your parents will never find. Do I make myself clear?"

The not so subtle threat was even more frightening as the Countess continued to smile.

"Crystal..." Ben muttered, significantly cowed. He could tell his mother was also concerned, but Ben didn't stay to hear the discussion as he quickly turned and dragged Nanna back into the room, relieving Gornash of his post.

* * *

"I'm not sure if you're showing prudence in assigning Ben to watch over your sister if her condition is that serious..." Mara mentioned, before she saw the devilish smirk on the Countess's face, then realized what it meant, "...Your sister isn't REALLY going to die, is she?"

The Countess shook her head.

"But your son doesn't know that."

There was a long silence, before Mara spoke again.

"I can't tell if you're mad like a hatter or mad like a fox..." But her tone wasn't disapproving.

"Why, Madame Skywalker... whyever must the two be mutually exclusive of each other?" The Countess replied, with a smile.

* * *

Artoo was hiding in the navigation room, helping his master pilot the ship, but from a position where none of them could see him. He knew his master's mind, and he knew what was helpful, and he knew that, even though his master was a great Jedi, one of the greatest in the galaxy, Artoo still remembered greater Jedi still, and that his master was still very innocent and still very naive and...

Still very much a farmboy.

But Artoo knew more- he was an old droid, probably the first in R2 unit history to serve three generations of the same line, and to have known Jedi Masters from the Old Order as well as the New. He knew things that his master did not, and could not, until the time was right.

"Artoo, is that YOU?" The voice sounded familiar, but Artoo couldn't place it. His dome whirled around and saw the black woman who had recently come into his master's life, but who seemed to mysteriously refuse to be recorded. Artoo had visual entries of her in his memory banks to recall who she was, but he could never make a recording to play back... this strange woman who seemed to move like a shadow, who looked like a living corpse, who spoke like a human protocol droid.

He whistled a greeting, then immediately asked what she was doing down here. The black woman chuckled, lightly.

"I'd ask for a hug, but I can see you can't... Somebody really should manufacture you with HANDS, little droid..." The words set off a reaction that made Artoo squeal in excitement. He rocked on his legs waddling out of his station as though to greet an old friend, but the black woman crouched down and stopped him.

"So, you remember me, now?" Her Excellency asked, grinning. Artoo tweedle-deed an affirmative, but questioned what could have possibly gone wrong- the last time he'd seen her Excellency, he knew that she had certainly been different. Her voice was similar, and some of her features still remained, but there was still a great deal that had been changed that Artoo hadn't known COULD change.

Her Excellency patted the top of Artoo's dome.

"Don't worry- it's nothing serious, and I'll explain later, but right now, there's more urgent things to be taken care of." She said, and when Artoo asked, she continued, "Right now, you've got some information on your disc about your former master, am I right?"

Artoo hesitated, before a low whistle came out confirming this, but at the same time, wanting to know how she had known. Her Excellency smiled.

"Don't you remember when I programmed that code into your system? I had a bit of a peek at what else was hidden on your disc, or did someone do a memory wipe on you as far as my computer skills go?" Artoo chuckled a little, but replied he hadn't forgotten, "In any case, you don't plan on letting Luke know what's on that little spot of your disc, are you?"

Artoo had to admit, considering how long it had been, Her Excellency had an incredible memory to be able to remember that much about his "personality."

"You're trying to protect him, aren't you?" Artoo asked how she'd figured it out, but Her Excellency shrugged and said it was jut a guess, "I'll need your help then, because there's more than just the past out there waiting to pounce."

Artoo asked what. Her Excellency's expression turned grim.

"The future. Himself. His family. Myself. The Sith. The past." She said, quietly, before Artoo started to get annoyed, and tweedle-dummed a more persistent question. Her Excellency sighed, before kneeling down.

"I'm going to bring up a few files from your data banks- maybe that will help." She explained, before Artoo found a file from after the battle of Yavin... a woman with dark hair, the Rogue Squadron, a kiss shared with his master...

Shira Brie, Artoo whistled her name, and Her Excellency looked grim, but nodded.

"Do you understand what this means? If she gets close enough, it will be more than a little portion of sanity that Luke will lose." Artoo agreed, then had to admit to himself that Her Excellency really had changed since last time if she was able to know virtually everything that was going on.

"That's why I need you to help me- if we want to protect Luke, it has to be from her above everything else." Artoo considered, then agreed, asking what it was Her Excellency needed of him, "Just some little favors, now and then. Keep an eye on Luke and let me know what's happening in the house. And..." Her Excellency glanced around, before lowering her voice, "...Watch out for Ben, too. Make sure he stays safe."

Artoo agreed that he would do this, before whistling and waddling towards her again. Her Excellency smiled and wrapped her arms as best she could around his barrel shaped body.

"I missed you, too, you little bucket of bolts. How is everything else? Still arguing with Threepio like a married couple?" She asked, with a cheeky grin. Artoo could recognize her face as the one he'd seen so many years ago now, and beeped a fond, if exasperated, answer. He told her about the things that had happened over the years to his master- from the time of Her Excellency's first departure, through all the wars, the birth of the Solo's children, his master's many and often doomed relationships, the opening of the Jedi Academy and all of the different students, the Black Fleet Crisis, and war with the Yuuzhan Vong. Her Excellency sat back on her heels and listened, somehow understanding his language with a fluency only Threepio possessed, normally, smiling like his beeps and whistles were like music to her ears.

Her smile faded as Artoo questioned about some of their other friends. She looked away, guiltily, before pulling something out of her pocket.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you try to recover as much of his personality data as possible?" She asked, inserting the chip into Artoo's slot. With a sad, understanding whistle, as he recognized the serial code, Artoo assured her that he would. Her Excellency smiled again, softly, before patting his dome.

"Thank you... It's the least I owe him after what I did." She said, before standing, "I have to leave before someone gets suspicious and comes looking for me."

Artoo whistled goodbye and then turned back to his navigation job, before he hooked up to the disc and began to review the information on it.

* * *

Jacci woke up and saw that Ben was sitting over her with that weird droid that had scared her on the first day. In an almost panicked gesture, she reached over to her other arm and pulled the blanket over the needle, hoping that he hadn't been here long enough to notice it.

Ben's arm reached out to stop her from covering her arm. Jacci pushed him away.

"Jacci, are you okay?" Ben asked, anxiously. Jacci didn't look at him, bitterly staring in the other direction as she nodded, "You thirsty? Hungry? Cold? Can I get you anything?" Jacci shook her head, still not looking at him, "You sure?"

Jacci resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why was he so worried? It's not like she was going to die or anything.

'I'm fine' She said, impatiently. Because she wasn't looking at Ben, she didn't notice the look on his face, not realizing that she would need to read Ben's expressions, not being able to use her empathy.

"Sorry." He muttered. Jacci still didn't look at him.

Great- now that he knew, he was treating her like everyone else. Neh-Nii-Kaa, Uncle Gornash, Uncle Tilus, Auntie Haid, even Nii-Nii all treated her like a glass doll just because of this weird disease all the time. Nii-Nii used to treat her like a normal sister when they were both younger, but one day Neh-Nii-Kah caught them rough-housing and made him stop. She couldn't play, couldn't run, couldn't jump, couldn't do anything except sit around the house all day, reading books or learning things like how to play the harp from Auntie Haid, or how to make jam from Uncle Gornash, or how to knit from Uncle Tilus...

It was so BORING. But Neh-Nii-Kaa was always so stern and if Jacci wasn't smiling and pretending to enjoy herself, Neh-Nii-Kaa would always come over and ask if she was feeling sick or tired or hungry or anything, so Jacci had learned to smile and nod along and pretend she was having a good time. Up to the point where she even pretended to like the horrible, itchy, frilly dresses that Neh-Nii-Kaa stitched her into, though she had honestly learned to appreciate how pretty they looked, since they were the only things she looked good in.

Then, she'd met Ben when she'd snuck away from Uncle Tilus on Ord Mantell and he had treated her like a normal person, even when she'd had to have the droid talk for her.

That, and...

Jacci didn't turn to look at Ben, because she was scared she'd end up glaring at him, even though she wasn't really mad.

"...You sure you're okay? 'Cuz I really don't mind if you're feeling too sick to talk or anything... and if you're thirsty or anything, Nanna can go get something..." Ben rambled, and Jacci still didn't look at him. She wasn't mad, per se, but she was getting annoyed. She wished she had vocal cords so she could scream at him to go away and leave her alone. She wished she could hit him to make him shut up. She wished she could run out of the room and hide somewhere where nobody would bother her.

As it was, she had to be polite, so Jacci lifted her hand and spoke.

'I'm fine, thank you. Now, could you please give me some privacy?' Even though, on the inside, she was screaming 'Shut up and leave me alone, damn it!'

"I can't- the Countess told me to stay with you and make sure you were okay." Ben's voice was pleading, and Jacci couldn't be too irritated, but she was starting to get mad, at least towards Neh-Nii-Kaa, since this stunk of her smothering attempt to be a good mother and big sister all at once.

'I'll be fine, now please leave.' Jacci repeated, even as she thought 'Why the hell can't you leave me alone to take care of myself, Neh-Nii-Kaa?'

"I'm afraid we cannot do that- Her Excellency was quite plain that if we were not here and something happened to you, she would kill Ben." Neh-Nii-Kaa was threatening BEN? That was rich- Neh-Nii-Kaa treated Ben like he was something even more fragile than the glass doll SHE supposedly was... like a fine piece of crystal ware that she was borrowing from a friend, perhaps, since all the times Ben had been over, he'd been a guest.

'Nothing will happen. These things happen all the time when I don't take my medicine.' Jacci reassured them, but she saw Ben fall out of his chair.

"WHAT?! But what if something went wrong this time? It was a few days, this time- what if you really are sick? The Countess said you could DIE..." Jacci's head finally turned to stare at Ben, almost appalled at what had just come out of his mouth.

'Neh-Nii-Kaa said I would die?' She asked, suspiciously. Ben nodded, in a panic, before Jacci turned away again, frowning. So THAT was why Ben was so upset...

Jacci snorted, but leaned back against the pillow before she pulled it out from behind her head and started to punch it with her only arm that wasn't stuck with a needle. Ben scooted away from her, trying to avoid being hit, before Jacci's temper subsided.

When she was finished taking out her anger on her pillow, Ben dared to touch her hand, before pulling it over so he could Talk to her.

' ' Why are you so mad ? ' ' He asked, and Jacci squeezed his hand for a moment, trying to reassure him it wasn't HIS fault that she was so peeved. After a moment, she thought of how to put it.

' ' I hate being treated like this . ' ' She finally told Ben, grateful that she could talk to him in this way that nobody else could understand. It felt like something that nobody could take away from her.

' ' But . . . if you're sick , you shouldn't be up . You'll make it worse . ' ' Ben insisted. Jacci's nostrils flared, but she finally answered.

' ' I get treated like this even when I'm not sick . It gets old . ' ' Even as her fingers spoke, inside, Jacci was screaming with frustration and pent up energy. Ben seemed to consider her arguement, and at least didn't reply like Neh-Nii-Kaa would have.

'I'm just making sure that you don't GET sick- and you bruise easily anyway, you know that.' Neh-Nii-Kaa would say, 'You're not old enough to take care of yourself. I'm your big sister, so you'll do as I tell you. I'm just doing this because I care about you.' She'd say.

' ' Wow , that really stinks . Can't you even go outside ? ' ' Ben asked, and Jacci looked up to see that he really did think it was stupid. Inside, she cheered a little, as though Neh-Nii-Kaa was there and she could brag 'See- BEN agrees with me!'

' ' Not a lot – Neh-Nii-Kaa thinks I'll fall and hurt myself . When we met at the carnival , I had to sneak out and tear off one of my skirts . ' ' Jacci explained, her other hand poking at her pillow a little.

Ben didn't say anything, with his hand or mouth, for a few minutes before he offered something.

' ' Maybe . . . Maybe the Countess isn't just trying to protect you . ' ' He said. His fingers just barely brushed Jacci's palm, in a whisper-touch, which made her wonder if she'd felt it correctly. But, when she looked at Ben's face, she knew that she had.

' ' What do you mean ? ' ' She asked. Ben shrugged, then explained.

' ' Gornash told me she was lonely . ' ' Ben said, quietly, ' ' You're the only family she has . ' ' Jacci huffed, looking away again.

' ' She has Uncle Gornash . He's in no place to talk about her being lonely when he's always there for her . ' ' Really, Gornash was more of Neh-Nii-Kaa's personal manservant than the steward and butler of the house- he did absolutely everything for Jacci's sister, from bathing, to dressing, to cooking. Jacci sometimes wondered if her older sibling and psuedo-parent was even CAPABLE of taking care of herself, since Uncle Gornash did everything for her. There'd been more than one morning that Jacci had been awake and dressed to find Neh-Nii-Kaa wandering around in a bathrobe because Gornash had slept in.

Ben didn't speak again, until he looked over at Jacci's arm, and suddenly seemed to remember something, because he shouted, with his mouth,

"I BROKE YOUR ARM!" He yelled. Jacci jumped a little, but frowned at him.

'No, you didn't.' She answered, using her normal hand-speech. Ben stared at her for a moment, before she lifted her arm, being careful of the needle and moving it enough to show it wasn't broken, 'You just dislocated it- Neh-Nii-Kaa popped it back into the socket like it was nothing.'

"Oh." Ben slumped in his chair a little, but Jacci could see he was relieved. Confused and curious, Jacci extended her hand again, and Ben took it.

' ' Why were you so worried ? ' ' She asked. Ben hung his head.

' ' Because . . . when you were getting sick , I thought it had been something I'D done , so I didn't know what to do . . . ' ' Jacci's eyes widened, ' ' I didn't know what was wrong , and I didn't know what I could do to help , and when Dad and Mom didn't know either , I started wondering if it had been my fault that you'd gotten sick . . . I thought you'd be mad at me . . . ' '

Jacci blinked, but she then leaned over and, without pulling her arm away from the needle, gave Ben a kiss on the top of the head.

It was enough.

A/N: So, this chapter is done. See if you can pick up more hints in here about who the Countess is.

Also, people have been asking me (face to face) 'What the hell is with this TILUS guy?' Well, I'll tell you- Tilus comes from the name of the old Greek myth, Tantilus, who killed his nephew, roasted him, and served him to the Gods. In Hades, his punishment was that he stood up to his neck in water, but when he stooped down to drink, it would recede just beyond his reach, and when he stretched out to try and take fruit, the branches of the tree would pull away so he could just only barely touch the fruit. With this in mind, see if you can guess what he symbolizes.


	13. Chapter 12

CMC

By Sapadu

A/N: I know you're out there, readers. I can hear you breathing.

If anybody was mad in the last chapter that I killed Tycho off, there are two good reasons- one, it's essential to the plot, and two, I actually kind of liked his character and didn't trust myself not to butcher it worse than I already had in the two scenes he was in. So, he's dead now.

Chapter 12:

Jacen wasn't sure of where he was going, but he did know that it was to his sister- something big was moving, like strings pulling on him, moving his body without his consent, and he had no choice but to submit to their will. It was almost something like the current of a river, pushing and pulling and forcing everything in it's way and shaping the riverbank to it's own shape. Relentless, unyielding, ever shifting, and always in motion.

Jacen couldn't see much further than his sister's mind- he knew that she knew he was coming, and that she was waiting for him, but on the outside, he felt something else moving him. It wasn't until Jacen saw the shape of the _Millenium Falcon_ and the _Jade Shadow_.

So, they were looking for Jaina, too...

"Hi there, Mom and Dad..."

* * *

_'The animal is still feeling acute stress from being in an unfamiliar environment. Do not touch him, let him be, and absolutely never use violence, either with or around him. Gently call his name and leave him food that he might like.'_ Luke half-mumbled to himself as he read the lines. It was stupid- he was reading the kriffing book and actually seeing how it could be plausible to treat one's own son like this. 

For the longest time, Ben had been left in the care of his Aunt, who was also Luke's twin sister, and it was by no coincidence that Leia had started to see the fleeting image of her own departed son, Anakin, in him. So, by the time Luke and Mara had returned to take custody of their son, he was practically calling his Aunt and Uncle by the affectionate names children usually reserved for their parents.

Of course, when Luke and Mara came back from the war, they had immediately gathered around Ben, almost smothering him in affection and expecting that he would also be happy to see them and return the gesture. In truth, Ben had done just the opposite and pulled away from them even more. And, given the War, Luke could quite safely assume that had hopelessly done in the suggestion to never use violence. And what had happened during the war...

Luke didn't want to think about that, but it suddenly shed light on exactly how deep it went and how true Saba's words had been.

"_Perhapz he did not like how the war felt." _

They'd tried to protect him... but was that the RIGHT thing to do? Ben had just withdrawn, more and more, and even now, trying to reach him was difficult, even when Luke was trying to draw him out and make his son more comfortable with being with his real parents.

Luke blinked, then realized he'd been rereading the same three sentences over and over, before he turned the page, hoping to find something new.

No such luck- the entries were mostly the same for the first three days or so of 'How to Care for Small Mammals'. Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes- at this point, he knew, Mara would have thrown the book halfway across the room, letting out a few creative expletives, and then stormed off to continue with her ways of parenting and be damned what the books said. While he was tempted to do that very thing, himself, Luke also had a tendency to blame himself when things went wrong.

But, maybe... maybe it wasn't too late to try again...

Still... how was he supposed to say to his son 'Ben, we're going to try to start over as parents- don't be worried if we leave you alone for a few days and just let you do what you want until you're comfortable. Oh, and I'm getting my advice from a book about taking care of pets- you don't mind, do you?'

"Farmboy!" Luke almost jumped out of his skin as a sharp tap on the back of his head brought him back to reality, "Geez, have you gone deaf? I called your name at least ten times..." Mara was staring at him with a tired expression, before she let out a sigh and stood straight again.

"...Sorry, Mara..." The apology didn't even sound like it was coming from his own throat, and Luke knew that Mara understood why- he didn't know HOW she understood, especially considering that Luke himself didn't understand, but she did.

"Is there anything in particular you think needs to be said to Ben?" The question made Luke extremely uncomfortable, but his wife kept going, "I'm going to go finish the lecture, so I want your input on what he needs to hear."

Luke said nothing, and when he was silent for ten whole minutes, Mara took that as a negative answer and began to walk away.

"Leave him be." Luke muttered, but it was enough to make Mara pause, "...Just leave Ben alone, for a while. I don't think this is something we really need to interfere in." Luke tossed the book aside and didn't meet his wife's gaze as she stared at him as though wondering what he'd hit his head on.

"If we don't at least give him a little lecture, Ben's not going to understand how serious the situation was. And, in any case, since there was someone's health in jeopardy here..." Mara's voice wasn't lecturing, but it was annoyed and Luke didn't blame her- he was thinking the exact same thing, but at the same time, second-guessing himself in a way that made him wonder if he was really cut out to be a father.

"I think... Ben probably understands without us nagging him about it- considering the person whose health was in jeopardy was someone he considers a friend, Ben is taking it a bit more seriously than we're giving him credit for." Luke said, simply, not looking at the strange expression Mara was giving him, "Let's have a little more faith in Ben's reasoning and conscience."

With a sigh, Mara pondered an appropriate response to his words, but before she could, there was a signal that told her a ship was approaching. Shifting to check it, Mara actually gaped in surprise.

"Well, look at that- the Solo's are also here..." She said, pulling Luke off the seats and out of the room to reach the control deck. Luke went on his own steam, also wondering why the Solos were in the exact same system. Well, not wondering why... closer to the truth would be he was wondering HOW they managed to come to the same planet as the Skywalkers at the exact same time.

Hey, kid- surprised to see you guys out in this neck of the woods. Han's voice sounded strained in it's cheer over the comm system, which made Luke's own cheer harder to muster up.

"We could say the same for you two. Are you also here because of Jaina?" Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Luke felt foolish for saying it- of COURSE they were here because of Jaina. There was no other reason that the Millenium Falcon would make a run like this if it weren't for the Solo's children stirring up the usual chaos. Han immediately let Luke know that he also recognized the utter absurdity of the question, too.

"Nah, we're just here for the scenic tour." Luke could see the planet below out of the corner of his eye- rusty red clouds and spots of brown. Swirls of slate gray and a strange puce shade looked like storms on the strange, nameless planet, and in the partings between the clouds, Luke could see steely gray oceans that looked more like raw sewage than water. A small smirk made it's way onto Luke's lips before he heard Han's voice again.

Luke... there's a ship connected to the Shadow, one that I've never seen before... Might be a pirate ship- stay sharp... Luke jumped for a moment, before he remembered.

"I know it's attached, Han- we had a... bit of a situation on board, here..." Luke explained, and when Han's voice sounded questioning, Luke specified, "The CMC is on board."

Oh... Well, this day just couldn't get any BETTER... Han's sarcasm wasn't too difficult to hear, but it made Luke wonder why his friend didn't like the woman when, to Luke's knowledge, Han had never even met her face to face.

"It could be worse." Luke offered, before the comm was shut off. With a slight frown, Luke checked to see that nobody would be needed to land the ship for at least another hour or so, then went in search of the strange Countess to ask some key questions.

He found, or rather, heard her, outside the room where her sister was still in a hospital bed and Ben was still sitting with her.

"In any case, Sieur Ben..." Luke paused, wondering if he was interrupting, "...You still haven't told your parents, have you?" Luke's hand froze over the door panel, ears suddenly very alert. He heard Ben make a muffled noise and the sound of little shoes tapping on the floor.

"No... not yet..." Ben muttered, quietly, before the Countess sighed.

"I'm not going to lie for you a second time if your parents ask. You have to tell them, and you will have to do so soon." The Countess lectured, in a severe voice that made Luke wonder what, exactly, it was that his son was hiding.

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to say 'Mom, Dad, guess what? That one night I disappeared? I was actually sneaking into a fancy dinner the Chief of State was holding for the CMC, even though I wasn't supposed to be there. And by the way, while I was there, I felt someone in the room having murderous thoughts. So, really, somebody in the room was about to kill someone else- you don't mind, right?' Yeah, that'll go over REALLY well."

Sarcasm didn't suit Ben, Luke decided. The scornful words sounded very out of place coming from his son's mouth. Moreover, he was also partially ashamed that his son was picking up on his own use of sarcasm.

"You think they won't believe you." The Countess' tone wasn't questioning- she was stating a fact, and when Ben didn't deny it, Luke felt incredibly uncomfortable. Part of him was indignant that his own son thought of him as such an untrustworthy confidant, but another part of him was aggravated that this strange woman knew Ben's attitudes, moods, and tendencies so well that she could pin down something like this with such accuracy.

"Of COURSE they won't. You said it yourself- I'm just a kid, who's gonna believe me, anyway? And it's not like I have any proof." Ben's voice was surly, but Luke could hear something else in his tone... disappointment... Ben was disappointed in himself for some reason... maybe he knew that he should have said something earlier, or was he disappointed in himself for not being able to be a trustworthy person who would have been believed, no matter HOW old he was?

"Sieur Ben, the fact still remains that the longer you wait in saying anything, the greater a chance there is that the killer will have made his move and killed his victim by now." The Countess' voice was sharp, and Luke almost heard Ben flinch away.

"I know. I KNOW that..." Ben's voice choked and he fell silent, briefly, "...That only makes it harder... the night after it happened, I couldn't tell them because they were still mad at me for sneaking out and they hadn't known where I was..." Luke was a little surprised to hear this, since he and Mara had been doing their damnedest to be careful with their emotions around their son, "...And the next day, we had to leave... I couldn't bother them, then... then this whole mess that I caused with Jacci... since I messed up so much with that, how am I supposed to even tell them if we started to run out of food? And the more days go by, the more I know that they're not gonna listen to me about something that happened a week ago."

Luke's hand dropped to his side.

"This is still something you have to do. A life may hang in the balance- now is not a time to be selfish." The Countess' voice didn't sound lecturing- if it weren't for her words, she almost sounded encouraging. Luke heard Ben huff.

"Then why don't YOU say something?" He demanded, sullenly.

"Because I don't have all the information necessary. You were the one who made the deduction based on information you took in and your parents are clever detectives. If they needed questions answered that might point to the identity of the person, I wouldn't be able to answer them, while you might." The Countess didn't sound impatient, but Luke wished he could enter the room and smack her across the face. That was more out of frustration that she was becoming closer to Ben than either Luke or Mara had ever been able to in the years they'd spent with their son.

"Tell you what- you go and tell my parents what you just said to me about it not being a time to be selfish, and THEN, I'll tell them what I felt."

Luke felt as though someone had just brought a hammer down between his eyes.

"...Sieur Ben, that is unfair." Her voice was slightly indignant, but mostly chiding. Luke didn't hear the rest as he turned and promptly walked away, knowing he wasn't welcome in this conversation.

Putting aside the anger he would have felt if Ben had said that to his face, Luke could see the utter truth in the statement. A life might hang in the balance, but they were on the other side of the galaxy. Even if he or Mara had had the premonition themselves about someone being murdered, they wouldn't have stopped from going on this mission to retrieve Jaina and the other Jedi who had gone astray.

And it wasn't for the sake of preserving the peace- nobody could say that the missing Knights would cause disorder, in fact, for all Luke knew, their presence here in the Unknown Regions might actually help settle whatever dispute it was the Chiss were having in the long run. No, the reason they were going to retrieve the wayward Knights was to cover their own butts.

But it was for the Greater Good...

Supposedly...

* * *

_Ben paused and looked around him for a moment, wondering what had just happened. A moment ago, he could have sworn he was on board the Countess' ship, next to Jacci as she took a nap while waiting for the dialysis machine to finish treating her blood. How had he gotten here? He was supposed to stay with her, just in case something happened- though, given how Jacci had looked disgusted at the news that the Countess had told Ben she might die, perhaps it had been an exaggeration- how was he supposed to to THAT now?_

_Really, the place didn't look even relatively familiar- the buildings were all... well, pale, for a good word... and they all seemed... softer, somehow... made out a material other than stone or metal like all of the houses Ben had ever lived in. Most were in the same style as the others around them- long pillars of brown between the pale off-white that made the walls, and doors in a crisscross of brown and tan. The roofs were slanted and all the same distance away from the buildings, and directly beneath the spot where the roofs ended, there were ditches dug into the ground, which was bare soil under his feet. From what Ben could tell, he was in a small city... or something even smaller than a city, but what it was, exactly, he didn't know, and the street he was on was a side street from the main flow of traffic, but where the main street was, he had no idea._

_Still trying to figure out where he was, Ben continued looking around until he saw a very familiar head of white hair. So, Jacci was here, too, sitting on a bench made of the same brown material as the houses. And, sitting next to her was the Countess, holding what looked like a bushel of small flower buds and weaving a ribbon through their stems._

"_Countess! Jacci!" Ben called, running over and surprised when neither looked up. Jacci continued to stare at the ground between her feet, which were swinging as they dangled from the bench, and the Countess had finished with whatever she was doing with the flowers, leaving them to rest on her knee. Then, it occurred to Ben, that something was off- Jacci was shorter than usual, and her hair was, too, only going down to her neck instead of past her shoulders. Both of them weren't wearing the fine clothes that Ben normally saw them in, but instead, the Countess was in nondescript, gray civilian clothes, and Jacci was in a navy blue dress that almost looked like a uniform, lacking the usual hat or scarf that she always wore over her hair._

_Ben came to a halt in front of the two, staring, until the Countess spoke._

"_I can sit here until the sun goes down, but you have to go home sometime and eat dinner. So, why don't we both spare ourselves the wait and you tell me what's wrong?" Ben blinked for a moment, before he realized she was talking to Jacci, whom didn't even lift her hand to reply like she usually would. Jacci's face was a little pudgier than Ben was used to seeing, bangs in her hair hanging all over it instead of being neatly curled around her cheeks, and her expression was quite brutally miserable. After a moment, Ben understood- this wasn't happening just now. So... it had to be a memory, of some sort._

"_Does it have something to do with how well you're fitting in at school?" The Countess continued, still not looking at her little sister, whom was starting to look even more and more miserable, which seemed to answer the question, "...Were the other girls making fun of your eye again?" Ben frowned, a little. Eye? Which eye? Did Jacci used to have a problem with one of her eyes? Was she blind in one eye or something? But she'd never said anything about that... Maybe it was just something that had happened when she was little and cured now that she was older?_

_Jacci shook her head. The Countess sighed, then tried again._

"_Are they still teasing you about not being able to speak?" Jacci shook her head again and Ben felt awkward, not being able to say anything, since he was apparently not seen by these two, "Then, somebody made a jab about you wearing long sleeves, even during the summer semester, to hide the bruises from the needles?" Jacci shook her head again, "...Did a teacher harass you for not being able to participate during sport class?" Ben felt very queer inside, seeing Jacci shake her head, but still looking miserable, as the Countess' guesses became more and more descriptive. It imposed on him that Jacci had not led a normal childhood by any means, and her illness had caused a great deal of grief in more ways than one._

"_Jacci... I only know that other girls in school are teasing you about those things because Uncle Gornash has good ears for these things. I don't like having to go behind your back to know what's happening in your life. Please... just be honest and tell me." The Countess finally said, shaking her head. Jacci continued to look firmly at the ground, before she raised a hand and poked her own cheek. The Countess raised an eyebrow._

"_Your face?" She asked and when Jacci nodded, the Countess's expression became stern, but somehow, also disappointed, "So, someone made fun of your looks. Would that be the same as calling you 'Ugly'?" She asked. Jacci didn't nod, but she did turn her head in the other direction so she couldn't even see her sister's face. Ben didn't know much about girls, but he did know that, even for a woman like his mother or cousin, being called ugly was a very grave insult. And, since Jacci was always sick and couldn't even take care of herself, he supposed her face was more important than most women would value._

_Quite abruptly, the Countess turned Jacci's head back with her hand._

"_No wonder they say that to you, if you're always staring at the ground." Jacci sniffled, loudly, "Listen to me, Jacci- in any species of animal, there is always going to be a need for social groups. Virtually all animals need companionship to survive. The animal species whose instincts are to hunt alone are usually very few in numbers. Sentient creatures such as Humans, Biths, Twi'leks, Barabels, Nohgri... we are all political animals, and so, we need to learn how to survive together." The Countess took out a square piece of cloth and started cleaning her sister's face with it, _

"_But, it can always be guaranteed that if a being senses weakness in another animal, they will prey on it, and that goes for weaknesses on the inside as well as out. Sentient species that live in groups have political systems to protect their members from being killed by the more base of animal instincts, but even if a person who is sick or disabled or weak in body is protected by the law, there will be other ways that the other animals will take advantage of them. They will out compete the other for a job or for a position of leadership or for a social status if the other doesn't have the internal strength of will to fight back. That's, essentially, what bullying is- the stronger of the pack keeping their dominance by pushing the weak to the side."_

_Ben looked between the Countess and Jacci, whom was blinking up at the elder with a hurt, almost betrayed expression, before the Countess sighed, smiling slightly._

"_The other kids at school tease you because you're ashamed of what they tease you for. For example..." The Countess tapped Jacci's forehead with her three middle fingers, "This face of yours... people can only call you ugly if you think they're right- that gives them power over you." Jacci brought her hands up to cover her forehead so her sister wouldn't bop her again, while the Countess smoothed her hair back, "You have a cute face- be confident about it. The next time someone calls you ugly, smooth your hair back and hold your head high and be proud of your face. The next time someone gives you trouble for sitting out of a game because you're too sick to play, sit up straight and cheer for the other team. The next time someone pushes you down, stand back up on your own feet." The Countess took one of the bundles of flowers she'd been weaving earlier and stuck it behind Jacci's ear, "Attacks are only as damaging as you let them be. Even if somebody hit you, or threw a blade, or fired a bullet, if you know the right way to combat it, the attack is worth nothing. You can catch the other person's fist, dodge their knife, or use a shield technique that stops the bullet before it even reaches you, and it doesn't matter how powerful they were."_

_For a moment, Ben could have sworn that the words were meant for him, that the Countess was actually talking about actual warfare instead of trying to console her sister, but the feeling passed almost as soon as it came..._

* * *

"Ah!" Ben's head jerked up quickly as he sat up unnaturally straight in his chair. Nanna was returning into the room with a pitcher of water and stared at him, photoreceptors unblinking and face still expressionless as ever as Ben came back to his bearings. Jacci was still sleeping, her hand still clasped in one of Ben's as he tried to sort out what he'd just seen. 

Was that, just now... a memory? No, it couldn't have been- The Countess herself had said that nobody had ever told Jacci they thought she was cute, including herself. It couldn't have been a memory or even a premonition.

It had all... been a dream?

"I wasn't sleeping." Were the first words out of his mouth, "I just closed my eyes for a minute. I was awake the whole time." Ben still felt very disoriented, like a carpet had just been pulled out from under his feet, and the fact that he was still very sleepy only made it worse.

"Good morning." Ben jumped about a foot in the air as he heard his father's voice from the door, Jacci's hand slipping out of Ben's as the noise made her stir, but not awaken. Almost guiltily, Ben looked in the other direction, not meeting his father's eyes and not responding to what he'd said. His talk with the Countess- she'd insisted they still have their weekly social talk, since she was all the way out here, anyway- had put Ben in an even worse mood to deal with his parents than normal, and given everything that had happened on the ship so far, Ben was quite sure that his parents were in a bad mood with him, too.

He still felt kind of bad for how he'd put his arguments for why he wasn't saying anything, but if this incident when he'd been forced to tell his parents about Jacci was any indicator, they would spend more time lecturing him for sneaking into a private function than worrying about the person who might or might not be killed. What was the point if they wouldn't even pay attention to the important things?

"Ben..." Ben blinked, but didn't turn around to look at his father, mostly out of shame, "You've been doing a good job keeping your word these last few days and you really started pulling your weight, helping out."

Ben blinked, still staring straight ahead and not seeing his father's face, feeling very, very confused. He had expected a lecture, or an interrogation, or something of the sort but... praise? And, sure, maybe Ben WAS keeping his word and helping out but... why was his father acknowledging that? It was something Ben wasn't used to, and it threw him off, a lot.

"...Thanks..." Ben finally managed, internally wondering WHY his dad wasn't brow-beating him for his screw-up, but determined to remain polite.

"You should probably take a nap while you can- Nanna can take care of things from here. We're going to be landing soon, so you stay on the ship with Jacci and Nanna where trouble can't come and get you."

"Okay..." Ben muttered, then heard his father leave the room, wondering what, exactly, had just happened at that moment, before Jacci stirred awake.

* * *

Leia had never seen her brother or Han look so out of sorts in her life. There were new wrinkles in Han's forehead and several of Luke's hairs had gone gray for a reason she couldn't figure out, while Mara kept glancing back at the _Shadow_ with an expression of worry evident in her eyes. Saba was the only one who wasn't perturbed by the unusual air in the place, outside the gleaming club they were about to enter- on the contrary, Leia could see her Master's yellow eyes gleaming and a leering grin spreading across her wrinkled face as her tail shook. 

The reason for most of the displeasure, however, Leia could guess easily enough, as she could see the diminutive figure of the CMC watching them from the window on her ship, and her strange servant with white hair was standing right next to them, or rather, over them.

"I still don't see why YOU had to come along." Han muttered, already in a sour mood that hadn't lessened ever since Luke had informed them of their guest on board. The steward didn't seem to even acknowledge the insult in Han's voice as he replied.

"To have a secure knowledge of who and what is here. Her Excellency insisted." He replied. Leia would have been willing to drop the argument with that- this man was employed and just doing his job, and she saw no reason to argue with him for that. If anything, Leia would have almost felt a stab of pity, but Han didn't seem to see it that way.

"You stick out like a wampa on Tatooine. And we can scope out this place fine enough." He argued.

"I have a tendency to see things other people don't, or sometimes can't." The steward replied, in that same, not offended or affected tone. Leia sighed.

"Han, be nice- the man's just doing his job." She scolded, but her sister-in-law interrupted.

"He's got a point about you sticking out- can't you be a little less conspicuous?" Mara noted, casting an eye over the already strange dress that the steward was in. Perhaps it was considered civilian clothing on whatever planet they were from, but his button up suit and tie were certainly not the norm on this planet, especially since they were so smooth an neat, it was almost unnatural. Part of Leia wondered if that had been part of the reason the CMC had ordered her steward to go with them- the idea of a gentlemanly looking man such as himself in a fine, dandy suit like that going into a pub like this was almost laughable. The steward raised an eyebrow over his oddly colored eyes, before shrugging, inelegantly.

"Pretend you don't see me?" He suggested without sounding jesting. It came out that way, anyhow, as Leia had to stifle a snicker and Saba sissed with amusement.

"If he drawz the attention, then we won't be noticed." Saba pointed out, as she dropped to all fours and began her approach from the rather isolated cover they'd been under. In pairs of two, the others stepped out and into the pub, until the steward came by himself, causing virtually the whole of the interior to stare and several characters with cloaks to draw blasters in a less-than-subtle manner.

With a silent glance to her sister-in-law, Leia started to scout forward, Force-sense stretched ahead to feel out any danger, before they walked towards the bar to order drinks. There was a thick, sweet smell in the air, one unlike any that Leia had ever experienced before, but it was coming from everywhere, and when Leia heard her Master's conversation with the Duros just a ways down, it confirmed the sinking feeling that there was nothing else on the menu.

From what she could hear, Luke was also trying to find out where the rouge Jedi troop had gone- apparently, a team of Jedi including a Barabel, Wookie, and Twi'lek had passed through here, but they weren't still in the system. She also heard the drink-servers informing her brother of needing to speak with a Lizil person, if they wanted more information, but they were interrupted.

Leia ground her teeth together as something in the Force caught her off- the person who had butted into the conversation and stopped the Duros from saying who Lizil was, or giving further information about the Jedi's visit to the system. Mara gave her a slight nudge, signifying that she'd felt it, too. There was a... not malevolence in the Force... but a definite shift. Something was off- not wrong, but distinctly off- as though someone had sent the messenger Falleen deliberately to interrupt this conversation and stop Luke from getting the information. The way she was behaving, not to mention the panic she felt rising in her twin, also seemed to add to this- she certainly knew that Luke was probing the Duro for something, and was displeased, to say the least, that he was doing so. But her displeasure seemed to come from something larger than herself, not any personal reason or vendetta against the Skywalkers and the Solos, if she even knew who they were.

"'Scuse, ma'am- haven't seen YOU 'round here, much often..." Leia and Mara jumped so badly their drinks went flying as their hands jerked, not expecting the strange twang of an otherwise familiar voice that appeared behind them. Spinning in her seat, Leia was very pleasantly surprised to see a grinning, bearded face that looked astonishingly like Han's behind her.

"You seem to be a stranger in these parts, yerself." Mara replied in the same fake accent with a small smile. Leia moved over onto an empty stool to allow her son a seat, which Jacen accepted, gratefully.

"Nobody was on-board the ships when I tried in the landing docks. What are you and Dad doing out here with Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke?" Jacen asked as he filled his empty mug with membrosia and took a long sip. Mara nodded her head a little in Luke and Han's direction.

"Master Sebatyne came along, too." She added, "Does that help give you an answer?" Jacen's head swiveled until he saw Saba, who was grinning like mad, eyes gleaming as she looked all around the cantina. Some of the things she was leering at would have made Leia or Luke cringe, but since Saba didn't need to worry about being assaulted, for sheer formidableness alone, it was only natural.

"Trouble with the Order, then?" Jacen muttered, but still with a good-natured smile. He could have been discussing the weather in the tone he was using, but Leia didn't roll her eyes, having adapted to this kind of smart mouth and unhelpful mannerism in Han.

"You could say that." Leia noted, evasively as she and Mara sipped their own membrosia, before she asked, "And there IS someone on-board the ship- according to Luke, the CMC's little sister stowed away on-board the _Shadow_, had a medical emergency, and the woman herself showed up. Because of that, Ben, Artoo, and Nanna are still on board, at the least." Jacen paused as his mug went half way to his lips, "I thought you knew better than to try and lie to your mother, Jacen- what were you really doing?"

Jacen's cheeks went a little pink, before he glanced away.

"I used the Force to see if anyone was on the ships- I didn't feel you, Dad, Uncle Luke, or Aunt Mara so I figured everyone would be gone." He muttered, embarrassed that his all-powerful Force-sense had failed him, at last. Leia smirked, then finished her membrosia, "And here I came thinking you guys would all be happy to hear my good news."

"Oh?" Leia asked, amused by how her son's false ego had grown. Jacen smirked.

"For one thing, Jaina isn't here, since she's who you're looking for." Leia heard Mara set her mug down a little too roughly, and she could guess why, "For another, I know where she is and how to get there."

Leia's eyebrows raised.

"Really? How?" She asked, somehow suspicious of Jacen's sudden ability to have all the answers, before he flashed her the smile he'd inherited from his father and tapped his forehead, "Oh... right, you're twins..."

Jacen's roguish smile lingered, while Leia shook her head and massaged her temples.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

The Countess finished making her last line across the star map before she folded up her compass and let the paper roll back up when Ben knocked on the door. It was partially open, so she could see that he was standing outside, but it made her curious why he felt the need to knock when Ben could see straight into the room. 

"Sieur Ben, what is it?" She asked, calmly handing the rolled up map to Gornash. Ben's eyes darted between the two of them for a moment before he swallowed and answered her question.

"Jacci wants to see you- she asked me to come and get you, specifically." Ben didn't look her directly in the eye, but the Countess was amazed at the request enough not to bother him about it.

"Did she say why?" She asked, giving her valet a slight push and shooing him off to find Artoo and program the route she'd just finished plotting into his banks. Ben shook his head and the Countess was not amused by how nonplussed she felt, "I see..."

Ben stared at his feet a little longer, before he spoke up, again,

"What did you mean 'Why?' Did you mean why she wanted me to come get you or why she wanted someone to come or..." The Countess cut him off, putting away her navigation tools.

"I have a rough idea why she sent YOU to deliver the message- Nanna would have been too easily turned away by an 'I'm busy' or 'I'm doing something important that cannot be interrupted'. You're more stubborn than that. And I'm quite confident that she's feeling out of sorts in some fashion, so she wanted someone to come and give her the proper medicine, since it requires a specific knowledge of her physiology. I'm rather clueless to why she wanted ME to see her..."

Ben shifted his weight from one foot to another- the Countess could practically hear his sweat growing heavier and more anxious as she rambled, before he finally blurted out.

"Not to be rude, Countess, but I think it's kind of urgent." The Countess hid a smirk, and feigned surprise.

"Really? Well, why didn't you say so?" She asked in a coy tone, and slowly shuffling her feet under her long skirt to follow Ben as he more or less dragged her to the sick room. Jacci was fully awake and alert, guiltily staring at her knees as she was waiting for her sister to arrive. After a brief examination, the Countess fished out an oily medicine and poured it onto a ladle, commanding Jacci to open and swallow the mouthful. She knew it was a vile medicine- bitter, but also sickeningly sweet, and smelling of grease and petroleum with the texture of melting lard and tallow. It was only fitting- the medicine was something to ease stiffness and act as a lubricant when a person's cartilage hardened or deteriorated in their joints.

It was quite common for Jacci's condition, when she went without taking her medicine for several days, then started back up again. When she'd first started taking the medicine for her kidneys, she'd silently cried herself to sleep for days, because her very bones ached so much. The Countess, herself, didn't know this first-hand, but she'd known every day when she'd gone through the therapy with Jacci and had to watch the little one's face scrunch with pain every time she lifted her leg and rotated her foot or flexed her arm and clenched her fingers. Then, just listening to the creaking and crackling of her sister's joints had made, when most of her help over sixty didn't have arthritic joints anywhere near this bad was just an extra pain they both had to endure.

"Perhaps you should be out of bed for a few hours..." The Countess finally decreed, and was not oblivious to the small spark of delight on Jacci's and Ben's faces, even though she pretended to be, "Get your shoes on and take a walk around the ship- but don't go off." The Countess saw Jacci roll her eyes as she pulled on, first a pair of frilly socks, then her buckled pink shoes, then hopped off the sick bed and went for a walk with Ben.

The Countess watched the two with a fond smirk, silver eyes glittering as she watched them clasp each other's hands and start on a walk, the defender droid following at a relatively undetectable distance. The two were smiling and somehow so at ease in the complete and total silence in the air, as though they didn't need words to communicate. Vaguely, the Countess wondered if Ben was still of the opinion that girls had cooties- if he wasn't, then he was even more mature than he seemed, while if he was, then Jacci couldn't argue she held no place in his heart. It was very difficult for any little boy to let girls into his world, and handhold, if he thought they might infect him.

With this in mind, Jacci had always been unusual with strangers- every time that the Countess had let her go outside, aside from school, Jacci had some unusual response to everyone else. She would rush over, hold their hands for a moment, maybe drum her thumb or fingers on their hands, but then let go and not let them near her again. Ben was the only one who had been allowed to hold her hand a second time, or any number of times subsequent. There was... something different about this boy- that much was for sure.

"Milady, where is Mistress Jacci and Sieur Ben?" Gornash had returned, still holding the rolled up map, but the Countess just giggled. When her steward raised an eyebrow and one of his scarred eyelids twitched, she managed an answer.

"They're on a date." She said, simply. Gornash said nothing, but continued to blink, "Nothing extravagant- just a stroll through the mechanized park."

"Of course, Milady." He replied, simply, before the Countess saw him reach into the inside pocket of his suit, "I didn't have a chance to give this to you- it was something else on the planet's surface."

Curious, the Countess took the small vial that Gornash held out to her and held it up to the light for a moment, squinting to see if there were any impurities in the aquamarine liquid, before she uncorked the bottle and cautiously dipped in the tiniest corner of her little finger. It dissolved with a hissing and screeching noise, only to grow back as soon as the Countess withdrew it, smiling with devilish glee at the small bottle in her hands and not minding the pain that was now just a memory.

"Oh, Gornash- you shouldn't have." She said, with the kind of delight a young girl would usually take in being offered a ring by her sweetheart. It was a comparison that she knew her steward would make, inevitably, and be very flustered over as soon as she turned her back. For the present, however, Gornash's wind and sun-tanned face was stoic as ever as he replied,

"You asked me to take samples whenever possible, Milady." He said, flatly, "There was something in the soil, so I took some." The Countess grinned again, positively giddy with the new sample.

"You are a sweetheart- whatever would I do without you?" She asked in a joking tone that her steward did not rise to, instead replying in a business-like manner.

"Presumably, tie your own shoelaces, Milady." He answered, and the Countess heard an unspoken following statement 'That's why you don't have to do without me.' She heard it, anyway, but didn't respond, instead turning and sharply patting her valet's cheek. He stood still for a moment, before the Countess frowned.

"Gornash, go shave- your beard is starting to grow back." Gornash didn't raise his hand to feel his own chin- her command was enough that he didn't need to question.

"Yes'm."

* * *

It was with a heavy head, spinning with membrosia, that Luke found his way back onto the Jade Shadow. He normally held his liquor better, but this was REALLY potent stuff for it to effect him this badly. Even Mara looked like she was combating a headache of her own, as they prepared to set their system to follow Jacen. 

That plan was effectively ruined as Artoo outright refused to follow Jacen, saying he was set on course for something completely different.

"Could you hold on just a second, kid? The little bucket of bolts Luke calls a droid is having a short-circuit." Mara said into the comm system to Jacen, who chuckled a little, understanding. Artoo shrilly informed Mara that he was NOT having a break down, but that he knew that they had to go to a different system.

"He's talking about a planet called 'Yoggoy'. Jacen, have you heard of a system like this?" Luke asked. Jacen made a confused noise, but confirmed he hadn't, and in any case, that wasn't where Jaina was. Luke rolled his eyes and was about to clear the command from Artoo's database, before the droid sent a message to him on the screen.

"'Yet.' Artoo, what the kriff does THAT mean?" Luke demanded, just in time for four wide eyes to peer around the corner.

"Dad, what's kriff mean?" Ben's voice interrupted, making Luke bite his lower lip one second too late. Jacen saved him from over the comlink.

It's a bad word, Ben. Your mom would be very mad if she heard you repeat it. Ben's brow furrowed as he almost glared at the comm that Jacen's voice had come from.

"So it's okay for DAD to say it, but not me?" He asked, suspiciously. Jacen's voice snickered.

Once you make it to twenty years old, you get a special license that allows you to swear. Until then, you can get a ticket. Luke rolled his eyes, since he could tell Ben didn't believe it and the green-eyed girl holding his hand started to laugh without noise.

"I thought you two were supposed to be in the sick room." Luke said, sternly, but privately glad to see that the two were grinning and walking around like normal children. It didn't suit any child of their age to be as serious as they'd been in the sick room.

"The Countess wanted Jacci to get some exercise. Speaking of the Countess, Dad, what's Yoggoy?" Jacci had pulled over a chair and then dragged Ben to sit next to her in it, since it was way too big for one nine-year-old alone. Ben went without arguing, then got comfortable as Luke swiveled to raise his eyebrows at them.

"Where did you hear it?" He asked, but Ben wasn't fazed.

"The Countess' steward was telling her that he'd... not heard, but seen a group of people talking and several of them were talking about how Unu was gathering the Jedi out here on Yoggoy. So, the Countess plotted a course for Yoggoy and said something about getting there one step ahead of the game, and then she made her steward go and program the route into Artoo. So, what's Yoggoy? And what's Unu, for that matter?" Ben asked. Luke listened to the interesting tale, before he stood up, irritably.

"I don't know, Ben, but I think we're about to find out." He said, walking to find the elusive woman, not really caring as his son followed behind him making very worried noises.

* * *

Gornash had one finger on the trigger of his gun as Skywalker opened the door in a bad temper. If Mistress Jacci and Sieur Ben hadn't been right behind him, Gornash would have shot, anyway. The Jedi Master was giving his employer's back a very ugly stare, but Gornash said nothing about it, waiting for Skywalker to say something, first. 

"Excellency, may I have a word?" At least Skywalker's tone was civil, even if his intentions and attitude were not. Gornash kept his gun concealed, as her Ladyship was still bent over her nanoscope, studying the sample he'd brought from the planet soil, and not twitching even the least at Skywalker's brusque manner.

"You just did- six to be precise." She replied without even turning around and continuing to make notes. Gornash relaxed a little, before speaking up.

"Is there anything interesting you're finding, Milady?" He asked, not wanting to allow her concentration to be broken. Her Ladyship looked up from the nanoscope just enough that Gornash saw a girlish smile on her face.

"It is apparently a solvent solution of acid, not unlike the kind found in the digestive system. A high K value, since you saw it's corrosiveness. But there seems to be a distillation in the saliniar base that keeps it from affecting the flora and fauna, and the hydrobromic ions have bonded with some kind of lead compound, as well as some minor alkaline metals, making it at least a semi-conductor. I'd have to run a current through it to be sure, but there's also a great deal of some other unusual compounds- if the few trials I've run are any indication, it's some kind of neurotoxin as well, so I can't be too sure..." Gornash breathed a bit easier as her Ladyship relaxed a little, even if their current, ignored visitor looked positively baffled.

"Do the two of you talk shop all the time?" Skywalker's tone was actually quite amazed as he spoke this time, but Gornash had no desire to answer him, content to continue pretending the man didn't exist, until her Ladyship turned around again.

"You should see the fascinating dinner conversation it makes." Was her witty reply, before she asked, "Were you in need of my services, Master Jedi?" Gornash was just lucky that he was used to being stoic and inexpressive, or his snickering would have given away all the seriousness in her deliberately double-ended question, whose effect was precise, as Skywalker went very red. Her Ladyship continued to smile, sweetly, before Skywalker cleared his throat and sat down.

"I was wondering if you could explain some... mysterious goings-on on this ship... have you ever heard of a planet called Yoggoy, per chance?"

Her Ladyship blinked for a moment, and Gornash felt a dropping out of the bottom of his stomach at the many implications that this could hold.

"So, your little barrel droid told you- that little snitch, I'll never trust him again." Her Ladyship finally said, and Gornash almost wilted with relief- as much as he loved his employer, she was not known for being consistent, in maturity, rationality, or anything else, and was usually prone to blame him when things went wrong, even if he was nowhere connected to the incident. With this in mind, Gornash was tense again when he heard Skywalker's reply.

"Actually, you were overheard when discussing the matter with your..." Gornash felt the man's eye on him, even if he didn't meet the gaze, "...help." Her Ladyship's eyebrows raised and Gornash swallowed, none too audibly, around the lump near his larynx.

"Gornash." She finally said, and he must have imagined the sharp tone as he stood, sharply, "Sound proof the doors- apparently, the manufacturer of the ship failed in that."

"Right away, Milady." Gornash said, mostly out of reflex, before he left, still not fully comprehending that he was still, somehow, in her Ladyship's employ, and choosing to ignore the stare that followed him out.

It wasn't until he was well underway with soundproofing the ship that Gornash realized he'd been called by his name before Skywalker, and chances were that he'd recognized it.

* * *

_'These flowers are way too small to be pretty.'_

"_That's because they're not supposed to draw attention to themselves- they're meant to complement the main flower."_

_"..." _

"_See? Look in the mirror- isn't she pretty?"_

_"..." _

"_Jacci... don't start crying on me, again- I don't have a spare handkerchief."_

_'Neh-Nii-Kah... When I'm older, can I grow my hair out like you?'_

"_...I have my hair long for a very specific reason. You shouldn't just try to copy me- you should be yourself."_

_'I want to be like you- You're stronger than anyone else in the whole world. I want to be like that.'_

"_..."_

_'Please?'_

"_...Tell you what: I'll let you grow your hair out, and when you know you're ready, cut it. When you know that you've reached your goal, I want you to cut your hair as short as you can."_

"_Understood?"_

_'...Well, yes, but...'_

"_Promise me."_

_'Neh-Nii-Kah...'_

"_Promise me, little sister."_

A/N: And I'll end here- I've also decided to start splitting this up into sections. It'll be way too much to stomach if I just load on fifty or so chapters without dividers. Part II will be up, as soon as I get some feedback, to see if you guys are still REALLY reading this, or if you're just skimming through it.


	14. Part II: Chapter 1

CMC

Act II: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

A/N: I'm so happy to finally be getting to a point where the plot will actually start to move- literally, you will hear gears start to turn as stuff happens in this chapter. I'm excited. So excited, I'm going to jump into the action right off the bat, skip the rest of the long, boring trip through space to get to where they're going, and then use flashbacks to clear everything up.

Oh, and everyone, give hugs and roses to my wonderful beta reader- Helen Fu! She's gonna have quite a job ahead of her.

Chapter 1:

There was a certain cruel irony in the world, Luke Skywalker noted upon meeting face to face with the leader of the Unu. The Unu had been, much to Han's most vocal displeasure, a race of giant insects. While this hadn't been too alarming to Luke, even taking normal entomophobia into account, they had all been very disturbed to see the change in the Jedi they'd found.

Jaina had been the most obvious for Luke to see the change in- she'd somehow become more in tune with the Killiks than most Jedi ever become with the Force in their lifetimes. But then, given how similarly most of the others were acting, Luke could only conclude it was not just Jaina that had caused this transformation. Something about this planet or its inhabitants was changing all of the Jedi who had come here, and might _indeed c_hange them. It was mostly their lack of any words that had tipped the elders off on the change that had taken place- the younger Jedi didn't seem to even need to communicate, as though they all were synchronized.

However, it was their blatant acceptance of the change that had disturbed Luke more than anything else. An unnatural change that made Humans and Aliens suddenly merge to be part of a hive was something to be diagnosed and fixed, but Jaina and the others seemed to see nothing wrong with it, and if Han had been upset, Luke was downright mortified.

The encounter had been unusual- Jaina and Zekk had led two squadrons to surround the _Jade Shadow _and the _Millennium Falcon_, but hadn't fired, instead leading them to the ground, for all intents and purposes at gunpoint. Jacen's ship had been led in exactly the same manner, and once the ships were on the ground, the group boarded the three ships and led out Luke, Saba, Mara, Leia, Han, and Jacen- Though Jacen less so, since he mostly ejected himself from his fighter- escorted in a relatively polite manner by the younger Jedi and several legions of the Unu, who's only response to their questions was that the Prime Unu wanted to speak with them in person.

'But this is more than we bargained for...' Luke couldn't help but think to himself as he stared into the mutilated face of Raynar Thul. For the longest of moments, Luke had not even realized who it was, until a wave through the Force told him who he was staring at. Raynar Thul's face had changed so horribly that it couldn't even possibly be called a face anymore- his ears were missing, his scalp bald and smooth as a boiled egg, and his face had melted like a blank mask. Even the Solos didn't seem to recognize him.

"We weren't expecting you, Masters Skywalker..." He said in a voice that was impossible to link to his old, misfit self, grating on the ears almost as much as it sounded like it grated on his throat, "Captain Solo... Princess Leia..." Luke could sense his sister's confusion that this man, whom she didn't recognize, knew their names.

"Sorry to inconvenience you- but there's no HoloNet out here." Han snapped. Raynar almost looked like he would have smiled, but the corner of his lips did not lift further than a twitch.

"It is not inconvenient for us, Captian Solo," he replied rigorously, "but you were fortunate that you were not attacked on your way in."

Han flinched and demanded, "Why weren't we? Just out of curiosity." At this Raynar's eyebrows, or what was left of them, raised before he looked up at the Falcon, Shadow, and the Countess's transporter.

"You have Excellency on board- we don't quarrel with Excellency. No one does. That is the way of things." He replied, simply, as though it were an obvious statement, but Luke could tell that everyone present was increasing in their dislike for the CMC, and really, he couldn't blame them.

"You know her, then?" Luke asked as he felt Leia's own understanding and recognizing of Raynar Thul come to the surface, as well as something else he couldn't place. Raynar shrugged.

"Excellency is Excellency." he said, simply, before continuing, "Because we don't want any trouble with any of you, we will ask you to leave while you still have a peaceful chance."

"Trouble? What trouble would we be causing you?" He asked cautiously.

Raynar Thul's expression remained disinterested.

"Not for us. You would be brought trouble, since you are welcomed by neither the Kind nor the Chiss in this area." He made a motion to shoo them back into their ships. "If you need to refuel or make repairs, we can provide assistance and supplies, but please do not interfere with what we are doing." He turned to leave, but Luke spoke again.

"I'm sorry that I have to be this harsh, but the reason we are out here is to retrieve five Jedi who have been causing a disturbance, and we've been asked to bring them back. I'm afraid that this might cause you trouble, but this is not something that we can ignore." Luke kept his tone as neutral as possible- something told him that Raynar was no longer a blustery, clumsy boy. The man he had become was powerful and talented and not someone they wanted to upset. It made Luke's stomach twist, but he knew he had to allow Raynar the dominance in this conversation for possible negotiation or they would find themselves in a great deal of violence.

"There are no Jedi of that description out here." Raynar stated, expression still blank, "Unless the Chiss have forged Jedi that we are not aware of."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"So you're saying that the Chiss are the sole perpetrators in this incident? The reason we came here is because the Chiss Ascendancy complained that a team of Jedi were interfering with a border dispute. Are you saying they were lying?" Luke asked suspiciously, but Rayna wasn't perturbed. In fact, he almost looked ready to retort before Luke had even finished speaking.

"Not lying, Master Skywalker, but we know they are certainly not telling the whole truth about us." He said, "We do not know why. The system we have entered is over a light-year from the nearest Chiss base, and we have established nests only on food sources. The Chiss are attacking without reason. The Colony is defending itself and the Jedi are helping us. Nobody is interfering with a border dispute."

Luke was starting to feel a headache coming on, but his sister- bless her soul- took the reins in reassuring the Prime Unu.

"Since our presence is unwelcome here, all of us will try to leave as soon as possible, but there are still several things we don't understand. If it wouldn't cause you too much trouble, we would like to stay long enough to understand what is happening so another war can be prevented, Raynar..."

Raynar blinked at Leia for a moment, before giving an obvious inclination to this request, but the next words he spoke put an edge that nullified all the softness of his attitude thus far.

"Raynar Thul is no more. We are UnuThul." His words were firm, with no room for question or argument, even if Luke had offered proof to the contrary, "Raynar Thul vanished with the crash."

Luke saw Leia's jaw clench, which was much more dignified than Han's expression, which related to that of a hooked fish, and before anyone could reply, Raynar Thul, or whoever he was now, disappeared.

"That's a dismissal, since you don't seem to understand yet." The speaker was Zekk, who had appeared from the shadows with the other rogue Jedi, all of whom shared a very similar expression with Raynar's except they still had their faces. Everyone else was disoriented and confused, even if nobody gave any indicator of it, before Saba rose to her full height and gave her son an imperious look.

"This one wantz to know what is happening."

Tesar didn't visibly react, but Luke had the feeling all of them were quailing on the inside.

"Then, you will have to sit still for a long time- it is not a short story."

* * *

"_Excellency, I would like to have a word with you about somebody on your staff." Mara Jade was leaning against the doorway, secure in the knowledge that said staff and the Countess were in the room, with Ben and the other little one on the other end of the ship, out of harm's reach. Said Excellency turned in her chair, looking politely curious, before Mara came fully into the room._

"_Someone on my staff? Madame Skywalker, has someone from my address been sending you obscene letters or something or the sort?" Mara stopped short, blinking at the innocent look the Countess was giving her, and almost laughed. Almost._

"_No- it's about something that's happened on board, today." Mara clarified, "We're now on course for the planet, Yoggoy, while preparing to make communications with the Unu. You told my husband that, even if Jaina and the other Jedi aren't on Yoggoy right now, they will be in a few days, which is the same amount of time it will take us to get there."_

_The Countess blinked again, but then nodded._

"_Yes, you have that correct..." She finally said, "It's merely meant to be a time-saver, if that's your complaint." But Mara shook her head._

"_I'm not _complaining_- I just have a _question_."_

_The Countess's face remained impassive, but __M__ara didn't let it bother her._

"_The reason we know that Jaina and the others are going to Yoggoy is because of this steward of yours. He supposedly saw a group of beings discussing it, but nobody in the pub was even talking around him- how did he come across this information?" Mara asked, and the Countess's eyebrows raised, while her steward with white hair- Luke had told her that the steward's name was 'Gornash', undoubtedly the same one that they'd encountered with the Empire but neither was clear whether he was the original Sith Lord, or just an impostor- stood to attention._

"_Gornash- you heard Madame Skywalker. I think an explanation would be expected." The Countess's tone was sharp, while her body language was relaxed. She pulled out a book and began to read, almost boredly, but __kept__a sharp eye on her valet, as though she thought he might try to run. Mara watched the white-haired man with increasing dislike, but he didn't seem bothered by it._

"_When I told you why Milady had asked me to accompany you on the scouting, my response was that I have a tendency to see things that other people don't or can't. What I meant by that is my eyes are specially enabled with various... uncommon... abilities. The group of conspirators that I saw discussing the information was in a flight hangar, fifty miles away- that is to say, I have eyes that grant me special abilities. For example," Mara actually jumped, as Gornash's eyes had just changed from leafy green to a grayish-green with a purple rim. His pupil even changed shape, from round to an elongated, vertical rectangle, "This eye allows me to read sound waves and lip movements, even if I can't hear the words or sounds."_

_Mara raised an eyebrow, mistrustful of this ability, but relenting that it was authentic, and the man before her had, indeed, SEEN a conversation that nobody else had. After a moments pause, Mara finally continued, but kept her tone a little more polite than before- perhaps she felt some honest apology for being so harsh before, but she also wanted to have more information and knew that a less threatening demeanor would be more effective._

"_How did you get such gifted eyes? The way you explained them, it sounded like you weren't born with them." Gornash's expression betrayed nothing, but she saw his eyes flicker towards his employer, almost similar to how a dog looks to his owner when wanting to know if he is wanted to perform some task. If the Countess had any instructions for him, they were unheard and unseen, before Mara noticed something else and tried a kinder, gentler approach, "Would they have something to do with those scars under your eyes that almost look like long lower eyelashes, if not examined closely?"_

_Gornash blinked once, but Mara saw his pupils, which had returned to a normal round shape with the green color, dilate, __though__ his face remained stony. Again, the steward glanced at the Countess, who continued reading her book._

"_Milady, do you mind?" One of the Countess's eyes lazily drifted up from the page she was on, "I'm feeling very harassed right now." Mara didn't make any moves to show she was reading the subtext in the conversation, but anybody could see that the Countess's valet was very uncomfortable with her questions, almost suspiciously._

_  
"Just answer her questions, Gornash- she's not asking for your life's story. Just enough to determine whether you're a threat or trustworthy. The woman IS a mother, after all." The Countess's reply was nonchalant and blunt, and the steward sighed a much-put-upon sigh before he turned back to Mara._

"_You are correct in your assumption, Madame Skywalker." He said, stiffly, but Mara pressed on._

"_Not to pressure you if it's a sensitive topic, but what manner did you GET those scars in? A crash accident? A mishap with a knife? Or was it deliberate? I don't mean to be threatening, but if you were a member of organized crime before coming to your current position and those scars are souvenirs, I wouldn't feel comfortable letting my son be around you." Mara explained, and saw a brief flicker in Gornash's eyes._

"_...That is understandable..." He said at last, "These scars were put there, deliberately. Before Milady hired me, I was a prisoner in the spice mines on Kessel and... suffice to say, during that time, I gained these unusual eyes and these scars as a result. I'd prefer to leave the details out." Mara blinked and made her best confused face._

"_How did you get out? The last time I checked, people didn't just escape from the spice mines." She asked. Gornash's expression remained firmly in place, but Mara felt something else. Something in the Force was moving, as though something was flickering inside him- not emotions, but something else._

"_I got, as it might be put, a 'Get out of jail free card.' A man came to the prison and offered me a deal- I could remain in the spice mines and be eventually killed in a very painful and messy way, or I could work for the Empire as a decoy for a member of a secret society of some religious cult, and live. The option where I got to live won, and I was assigned to take the name, Gornash. In the end, most of the others who were also playing as decoys were killed, but I went into hiding and eventually was taken in by Milady."_

_Mara blinked for a moment, eyes shifting over to the Countess, but only saw that the woman had tucked her knees up so she was comfortably curled in her chair and was busy loosening the knot of her tie, not paying any attention to the conversation. After a moment of silence, Mara finally allowed her suspicion to show._

"_I hate to be a stickler, but is there any proof that your story is true? Anybody can make up a story like that, or recite something that someone else told them to say... and I wasn't aware of the Emperor trying to create decoys for any Secret Society of Siths. Or that he had one at all." That last part was a lie, but Mara was deliberately trying to bait the man. Gornash blinked at her, once, but didn't react in even remotely the way she'd expected- either he was used to being baited on such a daily basis that he no longer reacted to them, or there was nothing to bait him with in her statement._

"_There were many things that I'm quite sure the Emperor didn't know about in his Empire." Gornash was undoing the buttons on one of his sleeves. The Countess was no longer reading her book- she'd set it down and was watching her steward and her guest with an expression that was either bored or furious, but Mara couldn't discern one from the other, "For example, only the guards in the spice mines knew about this practice." Mara looked down as Gornash pulled his sleeve up, revealing a tattoo on his inner arm in a series of numbers and letters, "The practice of branding the prisoners with these identification numbers. Cosmetics don't conceal it. Tattoo removal practices can't rid me of it. And the skin has been burned so badly, all the way down to the living layer of dermis, that it will never heal. The only way I will ever be rid of this number on my arm would be if someone rid me of my arm, altogether."_

_Mara stared, effectively struck dumb. The numbers 06167514 seemed to glare out at her from their spot in neat black burns on Gornash's inner forearm. There was a sensation of numbness in her stomach that reminded her of exactly what kinds of cruelty Palpatine had been capable of, but also that there were some things not even he would have done. Passing an order to capture people and send them to the spice mines was one thing, but a brand like this implied something... bigger, more malicious, possibly even sadistic. Palpatine had been evil, but he hadn't tortured people just for the sake of the torture. He had always been very goal-oriented, very purposeful, with a method in his madness._

_She let none of her quailing emotions inside her show through, of course, but she couldn't hold back how she was outright staring at the brand, before Gornash covered his arm again and redid the buttons on his cuff. Mara, for the most part, was still numb, with the additional feeling of being a grade-A bitch for interrogating him._

"_If you have no more questions, Madame Skywalker, it's almost teatime." Gornash said, stiffly, as he started to leave the room. The Countess was still curled in her chair, eyes finally back on her book, but just as her steward stepped outside the door, she spoke._

"_Gornash." She said, abruptly. It didn't seem to surprise her steward, as he turned and nodded in her direction._

"_Milady?" The man seemed to have forgotten that Mara was even in the room, but the Countess had a wicked little smile on her lips that made __Mara __nervous._

"_Madame Skywalker was very concerned about your abilities and identity. And I would say that she was not the only one to experience undue stress when they learned about your name." The Countess's voice was quiet, and it somehow seemed more dangerous that way, like the ticking of a bomb, so deathly quiet that you couldn't even tell where it was coming from before the explosion._

"_Ma'am?" The steward seemed a little perplexed as to where his employer might be going with this, but was obviously nervous as well._

"_As such, you will find an expression of my feelings for this incident in your paycheck this month. Or, should I say, you will NOT find the expression." The Countess was still intently focused on her book, but her steward__ clear__ly understood her meaning._

"_Mi-LADY!" He protested, voice cracking with indignation, even __though __his expression didn't change._

"_And I'll take an additional twenty percent if tea is late." The Countess didn't even twitch and her steward didn't even huff at the comment, but simply left with a 'Yes, Milady' and a click of his heels._

_Mara couldn't help but gape at the woman sitting across from her._

"_You're docking his pay just because I didn't understand something?" She asked, incredulously. The Countess shrugged a little, loosening her tie again and shifting. She looked nothing like the dignified aristocrat that most people imagined when they heard the word 'Countess,' and more like a very mature child who was teasing her favorite babysitter or uncle._

"_It'll be an annoyance fee for causing ulcers." The Countess said, dismissively. Mara stared at her even more disbelieving than before, but the Countess didn't seem to care, "Besides, if our past history is any indicator of a pattern, I expect that by the time the month is out, he'll have done SOMEthing to earn a bonus that will cancel out the dock."_

_Mara resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but started to speak again._

"_While I'm asking questions, then, would you mind telling me who the Unu are?"_

_The Countess's smile was back, full force._

"_Oh, they're wonderful people- you'll get along with them just fine. Polite, kind, friendly, very peaceful by nature... You'll love them. Just don't try to keep any secrets, unless you're willing to remain silent- if you tell any one of them something, you tell all of them." She said, waving her book like a fan, as though to bat away any of Mara's concerns._

_Mara's face warped, but she said nothing, instead__waiting until two little impish eyes peered around the door and then skittered away at the sight of his mother._

* * *

"So, that's mostly the idea about Joiners and the Colony." Zekk finished the explanation as the other Jedi finished telling their parts in the tale. Han was utterly disgusted by the new information, particularly since his only daughter and eldest child was right in the middle of it. For one thing, it was just plain wrong that a species could pull in other species like this- almost as bad as cross-breeding or something like that. For another, the whole idea of not being free to make your own decisions or think for yourself... that essentially meant they were all slaves to the Nest or Colony or whatever the hell it was called, anyway. 

For Han, or for any self-respecting Correllian, that was a very grave offense. But Jaina didn't even seem to care.

The fact that it was BUGS... that was something personal, but God- didn't Jaina know better by now than to mix up with species like THAT?

"So you're telling us that if we stick around here any longer, we're gonna start thinking we're bugs, too?" He asked, insides squirming with the prospect. Jaina quirked her eyebrow at her father, but he mostly was too busy holding down his stomach to notice her evident disgust.

"Dad, we KNOW who we are. It's not such a bad thing becoming a Joiner- you still can keep your personality, but you're also aware of the Colony... kind of like being an astromech droid in a ship. We're still us, but we're also part of a whole, something else, way bigger than us." Han gave his daughter a disbelieving look, turning to his wife and son for support. Jacen just shrugged, looking impassive, but Leia was obviously agitated by her daughter's words.

"Don't make that comparison. Especially when it's not accurate." Luke put in, sharply, "An astromech is designed specifically to work with a ship. You were not born to be Joiners." Han hid a smile at Luke's words- it almost sounded like he'd taken the comparison between Joiners and astromechs personally, given his bond with a particular astromech who was in the navigation room.

"How can you be sure of that?" Alema Rar asked, frowning, "Our parents might not have given birth to any of us with this in mind, but how can any of us be sure that this is not what is called our destiny? That this is not our ultimate purpose?"

Han threw her a dirty look.

"Fine- if this IS destiny, then a little thing like us taking you back to the Core won't stop it. Because while you're out here, the Chiss are getting mad and feeling threatened, so you have to come back to the Core until it's finished." He was feeling extraordinarily bad tempered, and the mood was made worse when the reprimanded Jedi began to argue with him.

"Is that code for 'Because we said so'?" Tahiri asked, her brow furrowed, lines creasing the scars on her forehead, "You're forcing us to abandon what is right for what will shut up the Chief of State, or else he'll cause trouble for you."

Han wanted to retort, but Luke was better equipped for the argument, as he was their teacher as well as Jaina's uncle.

"Who is this cause 'right' for? It might seem like the right thing to do from your perspective, but attacking the Chiss is not necessarily good. That is what the Jedi-"

"Master Jedi, don't start preaching to uz." Tesar's voice interrupted, "Thiz is a political dizpute- not religiouz. The Chizz are trying to kill the nestz- we are trying to stop them." Saba gave Tesar a very stern look, but he ignored it and continued, "Perhapz it is not just that issue, with other side factorz, but those factz are what everything comez down to."

Han outright gaped at Tesar, not sure if he was more appalled at the Knight talking back to a Master, or if it was how the others with him seemed to be glaring at Luke with an expression that said they felt the same way. Curiously, Han looked to Jacen, who didn't seem fazed by it.

"Jacen, don't tell me you're agreeing with them?" He asked, but his son just shrugged again.

"It's the way the hive mentality works- in almost all insect species that live in Colonies, they need to work together in perfect synchronization and cooperation to survive, so they have a communal mind instead of individual ones. And since they're part of the hive mind, now, they have to think about what will allow the hive to continue." Jacen explained.

Han cast Leia a worried glance, rolling his eyes. He should have known Jacen would come out like this- they'd let him have WAY too many weird pets when he was a kid.

"And in any case, Lowbacca is still missing." This caught Han's attention, if only for a brief moment, making his pulse quicken and his breath catch for just a second, possibly because of the similarity Lowie's name shared with someone else, "The Chiss captured him, and we're not leaving until he's-"

"Rescued and safe again?" Jaina jumped as she was interrupted by the tiny woman all in black, who was peeling medical gloves from her hands as she entered the room, "He's in the sick room, recovering from a loss of blood sugar. We just got back."

Everyone in the room blinked and stared at the Countess, whose expression was innocent, as though she were merely delivering the message- highly doubtful, given her track record of cleaning up messes, thus far. Jaina finally got to her feet and strode over to her Excellency with an attitude as though she were about to strike her across the face. The Countess' eyebrows raised, but she showed no alarm at the look on Jaina's face, until they were toe to toe in a staring contest.

"How?" She finally said, quietly. The Countess blinked, with that innocent expression again, before Jaina repeated her question, "How did you get him out? From a Chiss prison, no less?"

There was a slight shrug in the Countess' shoulders before she smiled, though hesitantly.

"Perhaps I got there during their coffee break?" She suggested, in a tone that made it clear she had no idea what the Chiss were like. Even Jacen looked disgusted with the apparent lack of intelligence this otherwise sharp woman was displaying right now, until Han recalled what Raynar Thul had said.

"Is this what the Prime Unu meant by 'We don't quarrel with Excellency- No one does'?" He asked the other Joiners, all of whom shrugged, but in more of a gesture to signify they didn't want to answer than not knowing the answer.

"Are you being funny, Excellency?" Jaina finally asked, without humor in her voice. The Countess raised her eyebrows, eyes narrowing in a somewhat bemused expression.

"That particular attribute seems to be more in YOUR control than my own." She said, mildly, but infuriatingly calm. Someone snickered, but it was silenced so quickly that everyone who heard it began to doubt their senses.

"So, you just walked onto a Chiss prison ship, asked them to let you take Lowbacca out with you, and they just LET you? I mean, you're not even dirty from sneaking around or anything, let alone having to fight your way out. Don't expect us to believe they just stood aside and let you do what you wanted." Jaina insisted, acting as the spokesperson for the doubting group of Jedi. The Countess's face was still in that mock-innocent expression.

"I'd offer Lowbacca, himself, as a witness, except he was unconscious for most of the incident..." She said vaguely, before shrugging, "Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but all I will say is that the Chiss present simply didn't want to fight with me. That is all."

Han didn't believe her, he could guess that Jacen and Jaina didn't believe her, and he KNEW that Leia, Luke, and Mara didn't believe her, but there was nothing that could be done or said, since outright saying to her face that they didn't believe her seemed equivalent to poking a sleeping krayt dragon in the eye.

Instead, Jaina sighed.

"Fine- but we'll only be grateful if you keep the Chiss from coming after us for retaliation." She said, finally. The Countess certainly looked amenable to this, but there was something in her smirk that seemed to find the idea of the Chiss trying to retaliate against HER to be ridiculous.

"My offer still stands, just so you know." She said, quietly, though she seemed to be addressing more than just Jaina, or, indeed, anyone in the room. Jaina shrugged and turned away.

"And our answer is still the same- we appreciate the offer, but we still don't have a way to get there." Jaina replied, before the woman left and Han immediately asked,

"What offer? And when did she talk to you? I thought we all only just got here..." he asked, but Zekk shook his head.

"She didn't speak with us, directly- a while ago, but not too long, because Raynar was around when it happened, she came to the Killiks with an offer. If they ever started running out of room, she knew of a planet that they could move to which would be more than enough for them, and would be well out of the way from any other systems so they wouldn't be bothered by borders and the like." He explained, then concentrated, as though trying to remember, "...Somewhere out past the Exploration Regions, I think it was..." Before Alema Rar picked it up.

"But we couldn't accept her offer- the Kind has no means of transportation, so it's kind of pointless to accept her offer of a new place to live if we can't even get off our own planet. That's what the Prime Unu said when she came with the offer all those years ago, and we haven't changed our answer." Han felt his face twitch as Alema Rar spoke- all this use of plural first-person was REALLY getting on his nerves.

"And you guys know about this... because...?" He pressed- he didn't care how the whole Joiner thing worked, but just because his daughter was hearing the voice of the Nest or whatever didn't mean that she could remember something she wasn't around for.

"Because we're part of the hive now, Dad- their thoughts are our thoughts, and their memories are ours. But since we weren't BORN as part of the hive, we can separate out the hive's mind from our own enough to know what memories are the hives and which ones are our own. But we still know all the information we need to know." Jaina explained, almost exasperated, but Han sneered.

"So, what happens if an amnesiac gets absorbed into the Nest?" He asked, disbelieving. Jaina shot him a dirty look, but Mara made a noise in the corner, "What?"

"I was just thinking how useful that must be in, say, a war or something." She said, in a tone that could have been mistaken for vague, but the Joiners seemed to hear a note of mockery behind it.

"The Colony doesn't want war- all we are trying to find is peace." Alema Rar said, coldly, but Luke looked pensive.

"By what means? Some individuals would define peace as everyone agreeing on everything- and what better way to achieve that than forcing everyone to have the same opinion?" Everyone in the room understood the subtle accusation underlying the statement, which made Alema Rar's eyes flash, Zekk's face harden, and Tesar siss. Even Han gave Luke a look of disbelief, thinking that the insult was going too far. Before he could say anything, Jaina started to argue.

"That's rich, coming from the man who's telling us to abandon the Killiks for the good of the rehab conglomerates snapping up our part of the galaxy." Her face was dark, and her eyes met her uncle's in a hard staring contest, before Tekli, who'd mostly been silent for the conversation, got to her feet and tried to stop them from getting into a shouting match. It was difficult, as Han had also stood up and was starting to swear, quite creatively, at his daughter and best friend for the nasty words they were exchanging.

A scream from elsewhere on the ship made them all stop, and the two Skywalker parents excused themselves towards the direction of their son's voice.

* * *

"Master Ben, the vac suits and evacuation station are for EMERGENCY USE ONLY!" Nanna's mechanical voice was shrill with her emphasis on 'Emergency use only' as Luke and Mara made it down to the lower levels of the ship. Ben was trying to push the helmet onto Jacci's head, but was having considerable difficulty doing so, as her forehead was bigger than his. Ben had his father's helmet on, which was wiggling around, several sizes too big, and both of them were in the evacuation station, setting the coordinates as though the ship was about to be blown up.

Luke would have been torn between scolding his son for playing with the emergency equipment and laughing at the adorable sight the two little ones were putting on, if it weren't for the sincere panic in Ben's actions. Jacci was mostly just sitting on the floor, looking confused as she tried to hold her headscarf in place as the small vac helmet was dislocating it.

"Nanna, you short-circuit! This IS an emergency! What else would you call a crash landing?" Ben's voice was high-pitched, almost squealing, even as it echoed from around the inside of Luke's helmet, before Luke spoke up.

"Ben, we're not crashing. We're still safely on the ground, and you might damage the equipment like that." Ben's head swiveled around like it was on a string, helmet rattling as he gaped at his father. After a moment, Ben reached up and pushed the visor open, a tearful face showing through the opening.

"DAD! You're okay!" Luke blinked, startled, before kneeling in front of his son and pulling his vac helmet off while Ben rubbed his eyes with his hands, sniffing. Mara awkwardly got Jacci out of the vac suit that Ben had loaned her, while Luke tried to reason with Ben.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"But... but but but... but just a minute ago, you WEREN'T!" Ben stammered, pointing at his father's face, "You were slumped over in your pilot chair and having trouble breathing and glowing and crackling and and and..." Luke put a hand on Ben's shoulder and made him take a deep breath before continuing, "And your face was all weird- it was all puffed up and white and wrinkled and your eyes were red all around..."

Luke felt Mara next to him flinch and his own stomach lurched, as Ben unwittingly described a face like the late Emperor's. Given that Jaina had just thrown a few well-chosen words about his actions being similar to Palpatine's, it was not a comparison he was happy to hear his own son say. A spike of anger flared in him, before he suppressed it- Ben didn't know, and there was no reason to be mad at him. Ben seemed to know, anyway, because Luke saw him back away. It was the slightest of movements- just one of his feet shifting backwards a centimeter- it could have been Ben trying to stay balanced, if Luke hadn't known- but it was enough.

"Nanna, could you tell us if this is a game they're playing or what?" Mara's voice said behind him. Luke's ears perked up, as Nanna made a noise that indicated confusion.

"They weren't playing a moment ago- the two of them were taking a nap just a few minutes ago, but Master Ben woke up and started screaming about the ship being under attack and demanding to know why we weren't all taking emergency precautions." Luke raised an eyebrow then glanced back at his son.

"Ben, were you having a nightmare?" He asked, quietly. Ben blinked for a moment, as the possibility had apparently not occurred to him.

"...I guess..." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes again- they were red, as though Ben had just woken up, combined with the irritation of the salt water, "But it seemed so REAL... I mean... it was like it was actually happening, because I didn't even see what was happening unless I was there... it was just like how I am when I'm awake, because I didn't see myself or anything like that..."

Luke felt his insides go cold, before he put a hand on Ben's shoulder, ignoring the flinch from his son.

"Ben... could you tell us, exactly, in detail, what you saw?" He asked, gravely. Ben eyed him for a moment before frowning, and taking another, very deliberate step backward.

"It was just a nightmare, Dad." Ben's voice had gone from being spooked to suspicious, and Luke knew the look on his son's face too well, "Just a stupid nightmare, and I was being stupid getting scared about it."

So, Ben knew what his father was thinking and where he was going with this. And, since Ben had firmly decided that he would not use the Force, he was pulling away and refusing to let anyone else use it through him. Luke breathed slowly and deeply to keep himself from getting frustrated, but it was damn near impossible with Ben's attitude, as he was staring at him like that.

In the background, Mara muttered something under her breath which could have been censor worthy. Luke turned and saw his wife had gone back to fiddling with the vac suit, whose fasteners were stuck so tightly that Mara couldn't pry them off.

"Ben, why the hell did you try to get Jacci in this? A vac suit of the wrong size isn't helpful." She muttered, with a disgusted look on her face. Ben looked at his feet and Luke was glad that he hadn't tried to get down the whole vac suit that went with the helmet.

"It seemed like it was better to have one that didn't fit than no vac suit at all..." He muttered, quietly, before, with a slight air of exasperation, Mara took them both by the hand and went to see Jacci's older sister about the situation.

* * *

It was with a mean sense of pleasure that Ben smiled as, once the CMC had been located, she'd taken one look at her sister trapped in the vac suit, and immediately pulled out a jar of grease, a screwdriver, and quickly lubricated and levered the fasteners open.

"Neat trick- where'd you figure it out?" Ben's mother asked, but Ben wasn't sure if she was sincere or not. The Countess, however, didn't seem to care about the sarcasm.

"There's a little one running around my house called Hiken, who has the body of a twelve year old and the mind of an infant. With all the number of times he's gotten his toys or his body stuck in all the nooks and crannies in that haunted house of mine, I should THINK I know remedies like this."

"Sounds like that would do the trick..." Ben heard his mother muse, but the Countess wasn't listening, her lips pursed as she examined the muss of Jacci's hair. Ben looked away, quickly, as she shot him a glance at the frizz the static electricity in his helmet had caused.

"It's no trouble- if this is any indicator, I have to clean someone up again." The Countess mused, using the very tips of her fingers to pick up the loose hanging end of frill that had been torn from Jacci's dress in Ben's haste to get her into the vac suit, "Sieur Ben, what could have POSSIBLY happened that you felt the need to cause this kind of commotion? Surely you don't think poorly of Jacci's cute face in this dress, do you?" Ben felt his neck and ears go red as the Countess forced her younger sister to face Ben and then batted her own eyelashes in a mock hurt expression. For a moment, he wondered if she was joking, but it was overcome by the embarrassment that a grown woman would behave like this.

"...N-no... I had a nightmare that the ship was under attack..." He stammered, noting with some easy humor how Jacci rolled her eyes, also embarrassed by her sibling's display.

"Under attack? By whom? Leviathans? Basiliks? Sith Hounds?" The Countess asked, sitting herself down and pulling Jacci into her lap as she took out a needle and thread to stitch the dress back up. Ben sat down, too, ignoring the disgusted looks on his parent's faces at her childish suggestions.

"Actually... I think they were some kind of bug... I don't remember too well... but they were these weird blue-ish black kind of bugs, and they were flying dartships, and I didn't actually see how they were attacking or anything, but the ship was rocking back and forth and back and forth..." Ben made motions with his hands to show the movement of the whole battle, then paused to take a breath, while the Countess tied the knots and then bent down to cut the threads with her teeth.

"Oh my! And what were you doing during this?" She asked, now moving up to curl Jacci's bangs, which had been pressed flat.

"Well, I was supposed to be getting into my vac suit, but I wanted to watch what was going on, so I went into the control room to see what was happening, and Dad-" Ben pointed over his shoulder without turning, "Was all glowing and there were sparks going on in the air around him and the whole room was crackling and stuff like that, and Dad was looking all weird, like, I dunno, someone had sucked all the water out of his face and his skin was hanging off his bones and his eyes were all sunken and red around the sockets- it was REALLY gross, but also kind of cool, y'know? The same way that looking at pictures of bugs and animals in science books is kind of cool."

The Countess continued to nod, but her lips tightened for a brief moment. Ben dismissed it- maybe, just in typical fashion, the Countess didn't like looking at bugs in books? He didn't know, but the force of his parent's alarm from behind him hit him full force, blocking all other thoughts from his mind. What was it that they thought was so damn important that they'd get so worked up over him talking about this stupid nightmare? He didn't know, but kept talking, until the Countess spoke up, again.

"And then what happened?"

"Well, Nanna came to get me and told me to go back to the emergency station... and I guess that's when I woke up..." Ben finished, with a shrug, disappointed in himself for not being able to have an exciting or conclusive ending. The Countess's nods didn't falter.

"And where was Jacci during all of this?" She asked, in a tone of a teacher encouraging a tall tale from her student as they were writing as she released one side of Jacci's bangs from the curler and let them spring around her cheek.

"That was it, though- I didn't see her ANYWHERE in this nightmare... I don't even remember your ship being attached or anything, but during the nightmare, I didn't notice or anything. So, I guess that's why I kinda panicked when I woke up, because I still thought I was in the dream, but nobody had gotten her into a vac suit so..." Ben felt his face go red as the Countess, and Jacci, stared at him with their eyebrows raised, but what the Countess said next took him off guard.

"Is she THAT important to you?" Ben saw her arms tighten around Jacci, who's face was disgusted that her sister would ask a question like that. With a frown, Ben nodded, firmly.

"Yes, she is." If he'd been standing, Ben would have stomped his foot, especially given the look the Countess and his parents were giving him- almost like a combination of disapproval and disbelief, and his father spoke next.

"Ben, I think you're still a little too young to be thinking about girls like that." Ben looked back over his shoulder and glared at his father, wrinkling his nose. Sometimes, it made him so MAD how his parents would decide everything for him, until the Countess spoke up.

"And I'm not sure I'M ready to give up my precious little sister at HER age." She noted, in a tone of agreement. Ben saw Jacci try to kick her sister in the knee, but her ankle was grabbed at the last moment.

"I'm not gonna propose marriage or anything! She's my best friend!" He said, in his loudest, most indignant voice. The Countess's grip on her sister loosened as her eyebrows rose before Ben muttered, much more quietly, "Actually, she's my ONLY friend..."

Then Ben's head snapped up. He thought he'd heard something like a noise come from the Countess's direction, but her expression was as solemn as ever. Ben stared at her for a few more minutes before she stood up, saying that it was time for Jacci's dialysis, if they wanted to avoid another emergency. Ben squirmed, before she ushered him after her.

"But, keep this in mind- if you're going to be a 'friend', there are rules you have to follow." The Countess's tone was somehow different than Ben had heard it before- some strange combination of stern, scolding, and playful all at once, which made Ben silently dread what she was about to say- especially since the Countess was about to give him a list of HER rules of friendship conduct, instead of Jacci's- before she began,

"Item one- you are forbidden to enter the room which my sister sleeps in, unless you are saving her life from a medical or household emergency, and then you are required not to look at her until she has something over her nightgown.

"Item two- you may not touch my sisters possessions, smell her scent, use her hairbrush, comb, or toothbrush, or touch her clothes. If you must touch any part of my sister aside from her hands, you are required to wear gloves. This includes her hair, hat or scarf, the sleeves of her shirt, or shoes."

Jacci cast her sibling a disgusted look and tried to kick her in the knee again. This time it connected, but the Countess didn't seem to mind as she continued to lecture Ben, whose head was beginning to reel.

"Item three- you may not eat from the same plate, bowl, fork, knife, spoon, cup, or chopsticks as my sister. If you must eat something she gives to you, you may not be fed- you must take it from her fingers or utensils with your own."

"And may I assume that, should I fail to meet these conditions, the punishment will be the same as what you set forth when she was sick and I had to stay with her?" Ben asked, trying to look as small as possible. The Countess sneered for a moment.

"You may assume." She replied, and as Ben processed this statement, he finally announced, horrified,

"Excellency, you have a sister complex."

"Damn straight." The Countess replied, "Item four-..."

"Farmboy, are you gonna let her go on like this right in front of you?" Ben heard his mother ask his father. He didn't hear his father's reply- he was too busy snickering.

* * *

"And I never thought I'd meet another person quite the same..." Mara heard the Countess muse as she closed the door on the sick room, before turning and jumping to see she was face to face with the Madame Skywalker.

"Same was what?" She asked, sweetly. The Countess blinked, then shook her head.

"Oh, nothing... nothing..." She said vaguely, before she grew serious, "I hope you don't mind my attitude, but I had to keep the two young ones occupied- there's something I need to discuss with you and the Messieur." Mara pushed away from her position against the wall, frowning a little, but curious all the same, "And it's a matter of urgent importance- something very grave, which the Mon and Madame Solo should probably hear, as well."

Mara was growing increasingly suspicious of this matter, particularly from the look on the Countess's face. There were other things besides just the woman which made Mara nervous- her apparent knowledge of everything in the current predicaments, her sudden timing with the emergency with Ben and Jacci, the peculiarity of her steward's abilities that had brought them to Yoggoy so quickly, and her apparent connection with the Killiks that the Unu refused to entangle with her and the Chiss had let her escape with a prisoner so easily.

It was all too perfect. Something about this woman HAD to be off...

"Mind if you give me some idea of what that is?" She asked, managing to keep her tone light and deceptively curious instead of harsh and suspicious. The Countess's reply was to reach inside her coat and pull something out of an inner pocket.

"It is concerning this- something that my steward retrieved from the planet's surface, while I was busy retrieving Sieur Lowbacca. The bottle itself is incredibly basic and lined with a base compound on the same level as the lining of the Human stomach, as the material itself is incredibly acidic- Gornash was lucky to not lose a few fingers in getting this sample, and that's the reason why it's so small, since his first few attempts to gather some resulted in the loss of several bottles before he managed this." The Countess explained.

Mara frowned and leaned in to examine the small bottle- the stopper was fastened into the neck of the bottle and wrapped around to it with several tight strings, each with loose ends, from which it dangled as they were held by the Countess's fingertips. The bottle swung, catching the slightest refractions of light, and the solution inside, even though it was murky because of the lining that kept it from burning through the bottle, appeared to be a thick, brown paste, not even shifting as the bottle swung the way liquid normally would. Mara squinted a little and saw a change in the consistency of the color, like an oily sheen was mixed in with it, the same way oil mixed with puddles of water on a street after a rainy day, and even though the bottle was sealed tight with wax, Mara still caught a whiff of an obscenely pungent odor.

"And this concerns us, how?" She asked, suspiciously, as she straightened up.

"You and the other Jedi Masters learned of Sieur UnuThul's fate through the Knights who became Joiners- they share the memories of Raynar Thul, just as the Nest does, and so, you did not need to visit the sight of the crash. Gornash, on the other hand, did and found this substance in the ground there, along with evidence of other living creatures, staked out but recently abandoned. In other words, in a place that you and the other Masters would have visited, he found evidence of this acidic poison, which was obviously intended for you."

That caught Mara's attention well enough.

"And what else is so significant that you're not telling me?" Mara asked, but the Countess shook her head, putting the bottle back into that inner pocket inside her coat.

"That's why I asked to see all four of you- I am not one to repeat long lectures when all the interested audience could have been gathered for the presentation." She said, sternly. Mara gave her a cold stare, but in the end, relented, but muttered, with a sigh.

"That idea of the Killiks where they all share a mind would be really useful right now- one of us hears it, all of us hear it." The Countess laughed, a deep, rich chuckling noise that almost sounded like a man's voice.

"Indeed, that WOULD be useful." She agreed.

* * *

Her deux chorde rested against her knees as Haid's fingers danced on it. Tilus sat by on his heavy haunches and watched her from where he sat on the floor, chewing vigorously on a fat piece of steak that he'd found in the leftover's box. Even as his stomach continued to ache with hunger, he chewed and chewed, those pangs of unending famish somehow lessened by the filling, rich noise of Haid's music.

He didn't care what anybody said about her, or what society would have thought about a cross-breed relationship- Haid was lovely, in all aspects of the word in Tilus' eyes. Her hair that was blue green like a flower's petals and skin like a watercolor-painted piece of ivory were refreshing and cool to the loud, angry, warm colors of Humans and other Human sub-species. Her soft eyes and peaceful smile brought a clear, blue moon and glittering stars to the night that was his life, and her hands, small and soft as they were, could play the most rigorous compositions and then be as a caress on a newborns skin. And, no matter what happened, Haid's arms and bosom, small as it was compared to what was supposed to be "Beautiful", smelled like soap and pollen, but so light, like a fresh rain.

In the early stages of their acquaintance, these traits had risen Haid to a place on Tilus' scale ranked as "I will not eat this person, even without being told," quite a difficult position for someone to hold. Now, however, the only person who had ever held such a place in Tilus' heart had been his own mother, herself, to the point that any person who foolishly asked would find themselves hastily informed that Haid was his sister, despite how their bloodlines said to the contrary. It was this position that gave Haid the sole right in the household to touch him, while others would find themselves with a bloody stump where their hand used to be, should they try.

There was a loud crash and Haid's music came to an abrupt halt as one of the strings on her harp snapped. The doors to the empty, sky-litten room were thrown open as Dreja- as that was what Her Excellency called him, and Tilus knew of no other name to use- came storming into the room.

"Where is she?" His voice boomed, causing Haid to recoil as best she could on her chair. Tilus had never been informed of Haid's reason for disliking the man, but he did know her background well enough that it angered him when Dreja deliberately frightened her like this.

"A-a-are you talking about Shaku-sama?" Haid's tiny voice asked, softly, before Dreja stamped his way over to her. Tilus couldn't move quickly enough- Dreja had Haid's chin in his grip before Tilus could even turn.

"She's not here, is she? That cursed woman who commands death? Am I right?" Dreja demanded. Haid's eyes shivered as her hands clawed at Dreja's single, powerful hand.

"L-l-let m-me g-g-go..." She whispered and Dreja did- or to be more precise, he threw her so her harp knocked over and Haid went rolling on the floor.

"It makes me sick how the weak ones like you get all the special treatment in this house- you especially. You're the weakest one in the house... no- the whole of the galaxy. Little Miss Amour. You're more like a Princess! Look at me! I'm the Evil One- the best in this whole damn house! Why do you get to sit around all day with your pretty harp and fancy dresses and little pet Wheel over there?" He demanded, while Haid just tried to cover her ears with her hands and turned away.

"P-please st-stop..." She whispered, before Tilus rolled over to her side and picked Haid off the ground, turning his heavy jowls on Dreja in a growl like a starving beast, which only matched the rumble in his stomach. The tall, lanky man backed away, slightly, but his sneer returned, quickly.

"And you... you used to be the Wheel- the number ten. Now, the only 'Wheel' in you is the shape of your body and how you roll on it." He continued, before Tilus began to snarl.

"I might only be number ten... but before any of us came together, I was also one of the Seven. Darth Beelz was my codename. And you are not on my list of people who I have promised Her Excellency not to eat." He growled. Dreja faltered again, before a voice at the door interrupted all of them.

"Shut up." Dreja spun on his foot and Tilus saw the little girl with black hair and inky cheeks standing in the door. Suna. Tilus had met her once, and it was enough that she scared him, despite being only seven years old. Without complaint, Tilus did his best to keep silent.

"I can't sleep with all of you shouting. It's making me mad." Suna's voice was quiet, dull, and flat, but it was enough to convey her annoyance. Even Dreja was scared of Suna and her strange ability to kill people without even coming close to them. Tilus still didn't know how she did it- actually, he suspected nobody except Her Excellency, who knew everything about everybody, Copy-Cat-Eyes Gornash, who had always been good at stuff like that for reasons Tilus couldn't explain, and MAYBE the new friend in the house with red hair and Skywalker eyes, who just seemed special that way, knew how Suna did it.

Without another word, Dreja left the room, but kept as far away from Suna as he could as he did so, even bowing to her as he had to pass her in the door. Suna cast Tilus a bored glance, as he picked Haid up and sat her back up on the couch, before Haid turned her motherly face towards Suna.

"Do you want me to play you a lullaby, Suna?" She asked, sweetly. Suna's expression didn't change- she never smiled or frowned or even really did anything. The closest to a change of expression that anyone could say for the little Tatooine girl was when she blinked and that wasn't a change of expression at all. It was the same with this moment.

"You're annoying." Suna finally declared in that grating, bored voice of hers before she left. Tilus would have snarled at her to apologize if he weren't so scared of Suna. Haid said nothing, but Tilus could see her wilt. With a sigh, Haid picked her deux chorde up again and started to fix the snapped string.

"How long until She comes home?" Tilus asked, with the same air of a homesick child as he nuzzled into Haid's knee- he was too heavy for any furniture to support, or he would have cradled against her shoulder. With a renewed, but sad smile, Haid patted his shoulder.

"I'm sure Shaku-sama will be fine." Tilus cocked one of his bald eyebrows at her, "Gornash and Jacci-shaku are with her, after all."

A/N: A-a-n-n-d-d... I'm too tired to continue, now. I'm hoping to get the chapters about the Swarm War dealt with in a hurry so the CMC can make herself some enemies on the antagonist's side and we can get to the part where her revenge comes into play.


	15. Part II: Chapter 2

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

Chapter 2:

The conference room on the_Falcon_ was crowded as everyone gathered- Leia had insisted that, if they needed to be present for whatever her Excellency had found, then Saba and the other Jedi should hear it too. While her Excellency didn't argue, Luke couldn't shake the feeling that she was silently displeased with the fact that Jaina and the others would be present. Oh well, at least they couldn't suddenly draw their sabers- Luke had had enough foresight to confiscate their lightsabers, especially given their recent tempers.

As the lights dimmed, the HoloProjector began to glow with it's blue light, projecting an image from a nanoscope into the air- up close like this, it looked more like an array of cells than a solution of acid and toxin.

"What's this?" Were the first words anyone asked, but in the darkness, nobody could see the speaker. The Countess scrolled in for a closer view.

"This is the poison found at the crash site where Raynar Thul's fighter went down- I had my associate go ahead and investigate the area, and he found trace amounts of this, mostly lingering around holes, as it's incredibly acidic, so the majority of it disappeared in action. However, this is a sample of what he did find." She zoomed in closer, and the picture of a cell became clearer, "Mostly an animal cellular structure instead of metallic alloy or plant cells."

"So, you're saying that this is a kind of poison secreted by an animal on this planet?" Jacen's voice asked from the corner of the room, "That's not too unusual- plenty of animals make venom, either as defense or to hunt."

"True." Agreed the Countess, before she moved in further, zooming in on the nucleus until the nanoscope had reached past the cellular level, down to the DNA code of the cell, "But do you know what this code is?" She asked, as she pulled up a second screen, this one with the code of the cells translated into readable terms. Luke leaned forward on his knees, examining the Holo, but no answers came clearly to mind.

"Can't say any of us recognize it." Han's voice called, gruffly. Luke could see the sole of his boot being propped up on the console, before he saw the Countess's hand bring down something like a piece of wood, slapping it away, before her hand inserted a second disc into the holo projector, a new set of images hovering in the air, next to the original ones.

"Even if you don't recognize what creature this DNA comes from, you'll notice a similarity to this." The screen lit up with a new screen, this one looking very similar indeed to the first one. Zekk was the first one to notice what it was they were staring at.

"Those are Killik cells!" The younger Jedi were on their feet almost instantly, demanding to know where the CMC had gotten them. Luke didn't pay much attention to the conversation- if Killik DNA was so similar to the venom that had been found, what did that mean about the Killiks? Also, combined with the fact that said poison had been found at a destination they would have been bound for, had circumstances been different.

This meant a few things- one, the Killiks were NOT all peaceful and good-natured as they claimed, nor were they wishing quite the good will towards the Skywalkers and Solos that they appeared to be.

"To be specific, the poison was derived from cells with DNA very SIMILAR to a Killik, but not exactly. If you examine the two codes closely enough, they have enough differences that they are clearly not from the same creature, nor is the difference in DNA small enough that you could simply pass it off as a different individual. The difference is very, very minor- only a fraction of a percent difference." Continued the woman at the HoloProjector, and even though Luke couldn't see her face, he had the distinct impression she was smiling, "Similar to the slight difference in genetic code between different subspecies of Humans- the same way that one would find the tiniest differences in the DNA of a Arkanian and a Chalactan and a Hapan."

The Joiner Jedi stopped trying to get their hands on the CMC to attack her, but by no means calmed at the unspoken accusation underlying her words.

"So, you're saying a different breed of Killik is after our hides, is that it?" Han asked, irritated. Jaina didn't seem in the least bit inclined to accept the explanation, for one reason or another, as she began to offer her own arguments.

"It could also be the Chiss- they have plenty of prisoners in their ships, and it wouldn't be hard for them to take their captives bodies and manipulate them to have a few biological differences than they did before." She pressed and as dubious as the idea sounded, Luke couldn't deny that it was a possibility, provided a few factors.

"But wouldn't the Colony know about the Chiss experimenting on their kind? With the whole collective mind and everything, you'd know if a Killik had been altered like this." Mara put in, while Luke merely sat back and listened to the squabbling between the younger and the older Jedi. There was still something he was missing and it made him uneasy to what it could be. Even more disturbing was that he wasn't sure what he was missing, or where it fit into his puzzle, or why it was being eliminated... it was almost like looking at a painting, seeing it as being complete when there was just some little thing off, some little detail that had yet to be added, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Maybe they didn't alter one of the Kind at all." Tahiri's voice put in, "Maybe they found a way to change their prisoners without them realizing and without the Colony seeing it, either." Because it was Tahiri speaking, nobody said a word of doubt- the Yuuzuhan Vong had done, for all intents and purposes, that very thing to whole worlds and lingering evidence remained on Tahiri's forehead to speak for it.

"Or what if they've been using cloning technology- extracting cells from their prisoners, altering them, and making whole new beings?" Zekk added in, "Wasn't that mostly how the Clone Wars got their name?" He asked. There was a noise from the corner of the room where the panel was operated.

"Excellency, are you feeling well?" Luke asked, lightly. He could have sworn the slight noise had been a laugh or snort or something of the like, but when the CMC's face came into the glowing light of the HoloProjector as she retrieved her discs and information, her expression was as blank as ever, only becoming slightly curious, as though wondering what other 'Excellency' Luke could have been addressing in the room.

The lights came back on in the room, and the better informed Jedi and adults on the ship all went their separate ways, except for Han- he followed the Countess back to the landing plank, finally cornering her against a wall. She didn't seem surprised- she didn't even let out a squeak, but melted into the motion as though she'd known that Han would try something like this. Han didn't visibly react to noticing this, but made note of it for later.

"Captain Solo, might I assist you with something?" She asked, sweetly. Han did his best not to be sick.

"Yeah, you could say that." He replied but the Countess didn't let him finish- or perhaps she thought he HAD finished his sentence, because one of her hands lifted to her lips in surprise as she began to talk.

"Oh, this is about the ship, isn't it?" She asked, and when Han was briefly stuck dumb by this statement, she extrapolated, "I heard you were displeased with your wife's actions, selling the _Millennium Falcon_, and even after I returned it, you still were upset enough that you didn't want to meet me in person, so I can only assume you still have some grudge on the subject."

Han blinked and stared at the Countess for a long, long moment, before he finally asked,

"Can you really be THIS dense?" The Countess tipped her head and blinked, innocently, up at him for a moment, "That was WEEKS... maybe even MONTHS ago. I mean... nobody can hold a grudge THAT long..." Han argued, even as the CMC seemed to lose interest as she looked elsewhere.

"You'd be surprised- one can never be too careful, just on the off chance the offended person DOES hold grudges." She said, holding her hands up in a placating gesture, "But, while I've brought the topic up, I might as well apologize properly, instead of the impersonal, standoffish way that I used previously- it was my own ineptitude that led to the misunderstanding. I most humbly apologize." She bowed as much as she could with Han standing in front of her, completely not seeing how red he was in the face.

"Um... you don't need to... you're making ME feel like the BAD GUY here..." Han mumbled, feeling the back his neck heat up, "Look, that's over, and not what I wanted to talk to you about, anyway."

"Oh, would you care over to my ship and have some tea while we discuss it? Or at least have somewhere to sit down?" Asked the Countess and Han couldn't bring himself to be suspicious of her- after all, if she'd wanted to kill off any of them, she would have done so when all of them were gathered in the room on the _Falcon_, all packed together in one space so no survivors could be left to suspect her.

"I'm not much of a tea drinker." Was the best he could come up with, but it didn't seem to bother the would-be hostess, as she smiled back, blindingly, and replied,

"Neither am I, but it's the best word I can use to describe it. Let me rephrase- would you care for a DRINK?" She asked. Han's eyebrows raised and the Corellian side of his brain suddenly became much more amenable to this woman, regardless of strange oddities and questionable tendencies.

"Well, WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO?" He asked, grinning. The Countess's eyebrows also raised, though more jesting than anything else as she led the way back to her own ship.

"Captain, I wasn't aware you were a habitual drinker." She said, lightly. Han laughed and made it into a joke, even as he couldn't help but be aware of the Killiks, whom had been helpfully assisting the repairs and refueling to the _Falcon_ and the _Shadow_, skittering away and giving _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Comte_ a wide berth.

"Oh, it's a recent development." He teased, keeping his eye on the bugs, even though they didn't seem inclined to tangle with either him, or, more appropriately, his company.

"Really? How long- weeks, months?" The CMC asked, even as they made it up the ramp onto the unusual ship that had attached itself to the _Jade Shadow_ like a leech. Actually, a leech was an appropriate metaphor- It was shaped like a slug, except without any antennae or horns, engines right where the head would have been. The outside was a smooth silver color, except for the end that flattened, where large windows allowed the room within to look out into space beyond.

"About twenty-nine years." Han replied and the smirk on the Countess' face told him she understood the parenting joke. The Countess led Han up a ramp that led directly to the spacious sitting room and inviting him to a seat on a couch. Gornash- apparently, Mara and Luke had been having some concerns about this guy, but they'd been resolved easily enough, so everyone had been using his name with ease- brought over a tray of drinks almost as soon as Han's weight left his feet and the warm, woody sweet smell from one of the cups made his Corellian blood burn with excitement.

Han took his own cup as soon as the tray was within reach, ignoring the taken aback look the steward gave him, and the formal exchange as he handed his employer her cup.

"Hey, you're the guy who found out about everyone being here on Yoggoy, right?" Han asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he lifted his cup of Whyren's Reserve to indicate who he was speaking to. The steward with white hair stopped, deliberately turned, and stared at Han, as though he were about to make a very conscious, important statement. In the end, Gornash merely nodded. Han raised his cup again, this time as a toast, "Thanks. Saved us time and trouble, and if we can get out of here fast, my daughter might not have to go through life thinking she's some kind of bug."

"Speaking of which, Gornash- were you able to find any other spots where this poison lingered?" The Countess asked, pulling out the tiny bottle filled with the sample. Gornash frowned, then shook his head, slowly, stopping as his employer sneered, slightly, "Then, find the safari equipment- we have a Killik to find."

Han didn't interrupt- a bug hunt sounded like the best idea he'd heard all day, even if the Countess's steward didn't seem to see it that way.

"Milady, please don't- the Unu are already upset enough at your presence here, as it is. Going off on a safari for a Killik of unknown origin will offend them in more ways than one." His tone was bland, but Han could tell there was a certain amount of panic behind it, though for what reason, he could care less, as he decided to put in his own two credits.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Han mentioned, taking a long sip of his drink- the spices and smell warmed him from the inside out and loosened his tongue, or at least gave him an excuse if he stopped enunciating so formally, "Just somethin' I noticed, but the Prime Unu said somethin' really weird about nobody out here wantin' to pick a fight with you. And every time you go outta the ships or anythin', all the bugs don't seem to wanna be anywhere near you, and every time somethin' happens, you're always the first one to the scene, always ready with some way to fix it, ALWAYS stickin' your nose into other people's business. You mind fillin' me in on this?" He asked. The Countess blinked for a few moments, before biting her lip and setting down her still full cup and saucer.

"Well... I can venture a rather informed guess why none of the Unu want me to be here for too much longer..." She mused, quietly, and when Han made a gesture with his cup urge her to continue, she sighed and, in a rather inelegant gesture, ran a hand over her eyes, "Dear Lord, this is embarrassing..." Han waited, as patiently as he could pretend to be, "...The best way to explain it is that I have... utterly WRETCHED luck!"

Han stared at her for a moment, wondering if she could possibly be serious, before realizing she was.

"That's... it? You've got... bad luck?" Han asked, almost mockingly, "So, why don't you just stay away from casinos?" Gornash raised an eyebrow that Han saw, but didn't react to. The Countess drank some of her tea from her saucer before explaining why this affliction was so horrible.

"It doesn't just apply to gambling- I have... mishaps, in the world around me. And, quite often, they're rather potent mishaps, not just petty trifles, such as losing objects or tripping and spilling things. As for why it would be cause for people to want to avoid me, the ill fortunes effect the people around me, or sometimes my own poor luck rubs off on them."

Han set his cup down and was halfway to the walk ramp before he'd even realized he'd gotten to his feet. Gornash got in his way in a polite, yet somehow menacing manner, similar to how a bouncer at a bar or casino would first politely ask you to leave before he forcibly ejected you.

"Captain Solo, you wished to hear an explanation. The answer is useless if you don't hear all of it." The point was subtly made, but straightforward enough that Han sat back down, even as he rationalized that it was because he hadn't finished his drink, and if someone else was paying for the Whyren's Reserve, he wasn't going to turn his nose up at it.

"So, in other words, your rotten luck gets you into trouble and nobody likes to hang around you because it'll get THEM into trouble, too." Han surmised, swigging his drink down. It didn't taste as good as before. Maybe it had just cooled off too much.

"That's also why I keep, as you put it, sticking my nose in." The Countess continued, which made Han curious, "Bad luck can only cause so much destruction if one is properly prepared for it. To use an example, if someone told you that the weather would be rainy on the day you planned a picnic, what would you do?" Han blinked at her for a moment, wondering if she was deliberately talking to him like he was a little kid, or if it was just because she treated everyone like this.

"I'd bring a tent- that way, you could have your picnic, but stay dry and not have to sit on wet ground or anything." Ben's voice put in before the boy himself came around the corner, stopping short with a heavy volume in his arms, "Oh, hi Uncle Han- didn't know you were here."

Han let himself grin. The words Mara had shared with him during the voyage to Yoggoy came back easily enough, but the truth behind them was almost painful and trying to smile in Ben's face while his brain was repeating 'I just hope Ben grows up to be as fine a man as Anakin was. Nothing could make me more proud.' over and over was almost like asking a man to keep smiling as someone poured salt onto an open wound.

"Heyya, kid- watcha got there?" He asked, proud of himself that his voice didn't crack, but couldn't hold back a flinch as Ben held up the book- an illustrated encyclopedia of insects.

"Jacci told me that you taught her all about these bugs." Ben gave the Countess a cheerful look, but the one she sent back was different.

"Well, all the poisonous ones, anyway." She agreed. Ben blinked, but didn't press the matter as he left. Han stared after his nephew for a moment, before glancing back at the CMC, whose attention had returned to her tea.

"So... you're unlucky, and the reason you're always getting involved is to help avoid any consequences..." He finally said, still itching for answers. The Countess shrugged, eyes closed as she sipped at her drink.

"After a few years of nothing but misfortune, one tends to become accustomed to it. After all, if you were hit by vehicles any number of times, you'd learn to look both ways before crossing the street, wouldn't you?" She asked. Han shrugged, as well.

"Fair enough. That doesn't tell me why nobody wants to pick a fight with you, though." He said, finishing the less flavorful Whyren's Reserve. The Countess paused to consider it, though she eventually was left puzzled, as well.

"I'm afraid I can't quite see what they meant... if your son is any indication, I'd say there are plenty of people willing to get their hands dirty where I'm concerned..." Han didn't laugh, so the Countess merely shrugged, "Maybe they're just frightened of the Little Ones."

One of Han's eyebrows raised.

"Little Ones?" He asked, "You have... kids?" The Countess paused with her drink halfway to her lips, but smiled, a little.

"I suppose they could be called that... children... yes." She agreed, vaguely. Han didn't really know how little kids could be so spooky, even as his own kids might have been troublemakers, but by no means something to be afraid of, and as he said this, the Countess only sneered, "Mine can be. Would you care to meet them? I have to introduce their new sister, anyhow..." The Countess stood and didn't wait for Han as she strode out of the room, leading to a large cabinet in a small room.

Han stayed back- if she could keep her "children" in a cabinet, he knew that he didn't want to be too nearby as she opened it. The doors to the cabinet opened and Han saw the lights of the room glinting off of glass bottles, vials, and flasks that were all sealed with wax and labeled beneath their spots on the shelf. He couldn't help but stare as the Countess climbed up onto a chair and put a tiny bottle of brown liquid on a spot that was still unmarked on the top shelf.

"So... your kids are... medicines?" He guessed, wondering if he should feel sorry for the woman, or call a nuthouse the minute they got back to Coruscant. The Countess didn't even twitch as she wrote out a label for the new "sister".

"Poisons." She corrected.

'Definitely a nuthouse.' Han decided, taking several more steps backwards and understanding WHY the Countess suspected people being afraid of her "children" and realizing that he, himself, was finding a growing fear of them, as well.

"Oh... How many..." He asked, trying to pretend that he wasn't just as spooked- it wouldn't do for a man to admit he was so cowed by the contents of this cabinet.

"Total? Three-hundred and twenty-seven. Of my own? Fifteen." The Countess explained, "It's hard to create poisons because they're usually just mixtures of other, previously existing ones. But, just because you mix together two poisons, it doesn't necessarily make something twice as poisonous as the two you combined- some will cancel each other out, some will increase the toxicity exponentially, and some just won't be mixed, any more than oil and water can be forced together." She pointed to one jar, which was full of what looked like purple pieces of chalk, "That's a mixture of aconite with alkaloid taxine. It was almost impossible for me to get the balance right."

Han made a mental note to start looking up as much as he could about poison and to NEVER make this woman angry.

"Oh... does it have a name?" He asked, keeping a careful eye on her back and one hand on his belt, close enough to draw his blaster at a moments notice.

"Not yet- it's difficult to come up for a name with brand new poisons like that, but Gornash suggested we name him 'Alkalaic aconitum'. I rather liked it." The Countess didn't look back at him, but Han moved his hand closer to his blaster, rolling his eyes with exasperation that someone would refer to a toxin as either a 'he' or a 'she'.

"Nice." That was all he could say. Anything else would have made him laugh or scream.

There were footsteps and Han's head swiveled to see Gornash come up the hallway, holding two slips of paper in his hands.

"Milady, the lottery numbers were just announced." Han rolled his eyes and focused his attention on the thoroughly boring pattern that decorated the doorframe. The Countess examined her tickets, then flinging them away with a kind of viciousness that drew Han's eye.

"Gornash, the safari is off." Was all she said before striding out of the ship, almost irritably. Han and the steward stared after her, wondering WHAT had just happened, before Han reached down and picked up the two tickets. Both of them had the same numbers.

"So... she's mad because she WON?" He muttered, only to hear Gornash sigh.

"That IS a bad thing..." Han raised an eyebrow, feeling incredibly dwarfed and childish against this man, who easily stood a head higher than him with white hair that most people didn't get until they were one-hundred, especially since he seemed to know more than Han- the only thing worse would be if it was Han's own kids being taller, older looking, and smarter. When Han demanded to know what he was talking about, Gornash shook his head, slightly, but not in a refusal to answer, "Because her luck is normally so horrible, the moment she starts to win at gambling becomes a sign that all is not well with the universe."

Han couldn't help but laugh- he'd known a few gambler's like that during his time, and if he hadn't Lando certainly had- and realize that the woman he'd thought was acting angrily was just in a panic that something bad was going to happen. Thinking about it like that, Han wanted to laugh at her.

It wasn't until he was addressed by Gornash that Han realized something else was afoot.

"Captain Solo, if you wouldn't mind, I have a business proposition to make of you." The steward's voice was different than when he was speaking to or in front of his employer, but Han suspected that was something of a courtesy or something of the like- like this, it was a gravelly, almost grating voice that made Han flinch until he got used to it. And he did so quickly, as he replied.

"Business proposition? Is that a fancy way of saying you wanna ask a favor?" Han asked, leaning casually against the wall, hands still on his hips close enough to grab his blaster if he needed it. Gornash blinked at him for a moment, before his eyes averted to the side.

"Actually... more of an evasive way of asking 'Can I bribe you into doing something for me?'" He finally admitted. Han's eyebrows raised.

"I'm listenin'." He muttered. Gornash paused to study Han's expression for a moment, as though looking for a sign of sarcasm or sardonia, but Han seemed to pass his test of trust.

"I would be... very grateful... if you could convince the Masters Skywalker and Sebatyne, Madame Solo, and the younger Jedi to cooperate with Milady in what she is about to do." Gornash requested, quietly, as though he thought eavesdroppers might be listening in. Han frowned, then scratched his head.

"So... we cooperate with her... as she goes through whatever it is to prevent her 'Bad Luck' from taking effect? You guys really THAT superstitious 'round this place?" He asked, dubiously. Gornash's eyes took on a look not unlike a child asking their parent to check under the bed for monsters.

"...There is a certain point at which it becomes less of superstitious and more of seeing a pattern and knowing when it is likely to occur again. Not stepping on a crack because you worry for the lumbar welfare of your mother is superstition. Not leaving rotted fruit in the bowl because you worry it will attract flies is noticing a cause-and-effect pattern." Gornash replied, sternly. Han snorted, having heard enough of this from Threepio, daily, and was about to leave, before Gornash said something that made him stop, "The only reason Mistress Jacci is alive today is because Milady began to make preparations when she realized she would become an older sister."

Han froze in his tracks. The words seemed to sting into him, a deep, piercing needle of empathy and reality that brought several unpleasant memories to the surface in his mind. After a long pause, Han turned back around and looked the odd-eyed steward directly in the eye.

"...Does she blame herself for it?" He asked, feeling a dropping sensation in his stomach. Gornash didn't twitch or ask why Han had inquired, but nodded, very slowly.

Two separate moments came to Han's mind- the first of a giant moon crashing into a planet, and then of a cove full of dragon-like creatures. As much as he'd blamed his son and the Vong and even the Jedi for the deaths of Chewbacca and Anakin, so much of it had been just the classic Solo method of trying to cover up his own insecurities that he could have done something more and prevented their deaths, or at least postponed them long enough to say good-bye. Han took a deep breath, then let it out, shaking his head.

"Just have everyone cooperate with her? That's all?" He asked, wanting to be clear that there were no other strings attached. Gornash closed his eyes for a moment then half-shrugged, half-nodded.

"You know what it's like." It wasn't a question- it was a statement of empathy, almost one which made Han wonder if the steward had also had an experience he'd regretted in a similar manner. Han nodded, slowly.

"It's the worst feeling in the world." He agreed, before extending a hand and shaking with the other man, "Pleasure doin' business with ya." Gornash smiled, almost crookedly, except Han could tell it was just because he was trying not to let his amusement show.

"If everything goes well and I ever get any of my paycheck back, you might find a more practical expression of my gratitude in your pocketbook some day soon." He replied. Han managed a laugh, but his brain was working on how he was going to keep his daughter, Zekk, and Tesar Sebatyne- as those three were going to give him the most trouble- from leaving the ship and interfering.

* * *

It was easier said than done as the troublesome trio kept insisting they had a mission to do and were beginning to get rather annoyed that Han wasn't letting them leave the Falcon. Luke was partially helping, as he was mostly using the 'I'm the Senior Jedi Master here and I know best' card to keep them contained, but Jaina was also insisting they see Lowbacca and nobody could come up with a good argument for that.

In the end, Jacen convinced his sister that the best way to help the Nest was to swallow her pride and do as their parents insisted, Zekk was restrained by Jaina's reluctant agreement, and Tesar's mother outright threatened him, and with those three subdued, even Tahiri didn't want to argue with Han when he told them they weren't leaving the _Falcon_ until he said so.

"And, in any case, I'm the Captain of this ship, so I outrank you. Now, let's all just go back to the lounge and figure out this mess with the poison and where it came from." Han finally put his foot down, shooing the younger Jedi back into the room.

"I'm still saying you're wrong about the idea of this poison coming from a different kind of Killik. There IS no such thing." Were Zekk's first words, before anyone even brought it up, but it was enough to make Han's temper rise again.

"How can you be sure that there are no subspecies of Killik which produce venom like this? That's jumping far too ahead with conclusions." Luke tried to reason with the Joiners. Han had outright explained Gornash's request to him, Mara, Leia, and Saba, and while Saba had had her doubts and Leia, curiosity, they'd all accepted it pretty easily.

"It's not possible. All of the Kind know this- the Colony influences other nests, and we would know if there was a different kind of Killik out there." Tahiri put in, with a kind of firmness in her voice that could have been mistaken for insubordination.

"The Jedi were also very convinced that the Sith were completely extinct while there was a Sith Lord taking control of the Senate right under their noses." Luke's reply seemed to catch everyone off guard, but it also made most of the younger Jedi bristle.

"You say that as though this supposed 'New' kind of Killik is actually evil. Jacen said it, first- animals use poison to defend themselves or hunt, and it's no different with a majority of sentient species. Even if there is another kind of Killik out there, just because it's making poison like that doesn't mean it's an 'Evil' species." Pointed out Alema, even as the other Joiners gave her a strange look.

"And how do we know that it waz even a Killik who was distributing the poison? We still don't know if maybe the Chisz are developing a weapon based on cells from their Killik prisonerz, and they might have been the onez at the sitez with that poison..." Tesar added, his tail thumping with annoyance. Han kept wisely silent, even as Zekk spoke up, again.

"Or, for that matter, what if this isn't even a weapon or any kind of real poison? The Chiss don't have any problem trying to starve the Colony out of the system- why should they feel bad for making it LOOK like there's a different kind of Killik out there, trying to create confusion and force us to hunt among ourselves. That way, they don't break their code of honor and we do their dirty work for them." Jaina shot Zekk a dirty look, though more for saying it out loud than because she hadn't been thinking the same thing.

Jacen put in a note of suspicion from a very different angle.

"What I want to know is how we can be sure that this poison was actually found at the site of the crash- the person who told us about it is too suspicious in how she behaves and supposedly knows everything. Doesn't it seem a little convenient that she sent someone ahead to investigate and he just happened to find a deadly kind of poison at the site which was OBVIOUSLY intended for us? How do we know this associate of hers didn't make it up? Or that she didn't make that poison herself?" Han would have listened to his son under different circumstances, but what he'd just seen made him think differently, to the point that he stopped Jacen's logic before he could even get started.

"You underestimate how hard it is to mix that kind of stuff, Jacen. And, for that matter, how long it takes- I was just over there to ask her a few questions 'bout this and she's got a whole cabinet full of different poisons. Out of 'round three hundred different kinds, only fifteen are poisons she's actually made, herself, because it's so difficult and takes so long. In any case, this woman's not stupid- she'd know better than to set up a trap using poison and then deliberately report it to us, when that collection of hers would make her our first suspect." Han mentioned. And as for her steward being the guy to have done the dirty deed, that was also highly doubtful, as he had avoided the poison room very deliberately.

Nope, definitely not those two, Han was sure of that. Besides, if that freaky little sister of the Countess's and Ben heard Jacen talking like this, Han had no doubt that the two kids would be a force to be feared even more that the other said 'Little Ones' on the CMC's ship.

"It's a better explanation than the Chiss making up a new biological weapon or a new subspecies of Killik that doesn't exist." Remarked Zekk, sourly. Mara finally put her foot down.

"Okay- prove that there really is no new subspecies of Killik, or that the Chiss aren't doing this, or that the CMC IS responsible, beyond all reasonable doubt, and THEN we'll take action." She said, and before Jaina could argue with her, Mara continued, "All you're using is circumstantial evidence and suspicion, which could have just as easily been deliberately planted by a third party as the evidence that points to the Chiss could have been planted by the CMC or the evidence that points to a Killik species could have been planted by the Chiss. It's NOT. GOOD. ENOUGH."

Han could even see Luke scoot away from her, even the littlest bit. All the younger Jedi in the room leaned backwards, as though they thought fire would come spurting out of Mara's mouth, Leia managed to remain dignified as she subtly took one step towards the door, and Han felt more than a little cowed.

"Well... now that you mention it..." Han muttered, not wanting to incur Mara's ire as she turned to glare at him as though to say 'It had better be GOOD news', "...We might find out if it IS a Killik or not..."

The Joiners, who all seemed to be firmly attached to the idea that it was utterly impossible for there to be a subspecies of Killik that they didn't know about, gave Han a look of deep loathing, but he ignored it in favor of Luke and Leia's questioning gazes and Mara's glare as she remained calm, but focused on the task at hand.

"That lady seemed pretty interested in the whole issue of where the poison came from, so she hinted that she might go looking for wherever it came from in order to get more. We trail her, we might find ourselves an answer." Saba and Tesar looked distinctly agreeable to this suggestion.

"A hunt, you mean?" Saba asked, eyes gleaming, which made Han suddenly regret making the suggestion.

"No... not a hunt... just... a..." Han went through his thesaurus of alternatives to the word 'hunt' but the Joiners all suddenly jumped to their feet and made a dash out of the room, heading for the exit of the Falcon without a word, until Han pulled the emergency fire extinguishing system, causing all of them to run into a cloud of nitrogen smoke.

"Captain Solo, thiz iz not the time." Tesar sissed, angrily, staying out of the smoke, "That woman haz kidnapped the Prime Unu." Han scoffed, hearing a loud crash as the blinded and winded younger Jedi crashed into the walls of the _Falcon_.

"Yeah, and I'm the King of Corellia." He snapped, before turning off the extinguishing system and surveying the damage that the younger Jedi had caused, both to the ship and to themselves. Even Jaina had run into a wall, ended up with a lump on her head, and was currently sprawled on the floor, nursing her injury and wondering what the hell had just happened.

"She IS. She's taken Raynar from Yoggoy and just told him they're going to go see the Chiss." Zekk got to his feet first, having only just tripped over a cable, even though a portion was still wrapped around his foot.

"Probably to make them come to an agreement so they don't start up another war and drag us all into the middle of it." Han said, dismissively, as he inspected the damage a little more closely. Jaina snorted, derisively, but Han gave her a very sharp look, before glancing over at Zekk and reluctantly asking him the question.

"You know that boyfriend of yours..." Han nodded in Jaina's direction, and Zekk seemed to understand his meaning, even though he scowled at the idea of Jagged Fel being even remotely related to him, which made Han meanly pleased, "...If someone gave him a huge sack full of money, would he accept it?"

Zekk blinked for a moment, but eventually nodded.

"And if someone gave him an even bigger sack full of money and asked him to do a little favor for them that wouldn't be too much trouble for him, anyway, would he accept it and do the favor?" Han pushed. Both Zekk and Jaina nodded, somehow knowing where Han was going with this, if anyone were to judge by the expressions on their faces. Han nodded, contently, and put his hands on his hips.

"Then I've got a hunch that we'll see the Chiss and the Killiks come to an agreement before the day is out, if the CMC is regulating it." All the adults stared at Han for a long moment, before he saw them, one by one, reluctantly agreeing that he was probably right, "In any case, you kids ain't going nowhere until you clean up the mess you caused here- this is MY ship and YOU guys just busted it up."

Nobody argued.

Privately, Han hoped that the Countess would resolve the tension between the Chiss and the Killiks, or it was going to look VERY bad that he'd vouched in her favor.

* * *

' ' And this is means you will find challenges in the every day experience and gain from them , either by learning from mistakes or by getting stronger . ' ' Jacci finished, pointing to the card farthest to her left. Ben leaned over the table to look at what the card was- the eight coins. Ben looked it up in the book that Jacci had pulled out from the bookshelves and read the entry.

"The Eight of Coins: Apprenticeship, learning, training, work, difficult times, and trials." Ben read, out loud. Jacci made a face, then scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it up- Ben had had to let go of her hand while he read from the book- for him to read.

'Close enough.' Ben also made a face.

"You know me too well- you can incorporate what you know about me with what the cards say and do the stretching or twisting so you're right." He accused, even as Jacci stuck out her tongue, so Ben knew that she knew he was right. With a huff, Jacci gathered her sabacc deck up again and handed it to him, with another sign.

'You do my fortune, then.' Inside, Ben wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Even after Master Tionne had gotten him interested in the whole thing where sabacc cards were used to tell fortunes, he'd never been good at it. Jacci, on the other hand, said that 'Auntie Haid' had taught her, and was turning out to be VERY good. Every different spread, she'd been dead on, but Ben had yet to try against Jacci.

'No man can back down from a challenge and still call himself a man- even if you lose, you can still hold your head high an' defiant in defeat.' Okay, so Uncle Han hadn't ever ACTUALLY said that to Ben, but he somehow had the feeling that his Uncle would agree with anyone who DID make that statement. And Jacen had taught Ben to never back down from a challenge, if nothing else.

"You're on." Ben took the shuffled deck, before dealing them in a simple three-draw formation, turning them upright one at a time. The first card he found was Ten Sabers. Jacci blinked and stared at it, while Ben gulped and looked through the book for it's entry.

"Um... Ten of Sabers... Great misfortune, ruin, downfall, bad luck, suffering, and everything going wrong..." Ben muttered, then made a face of his own, "That CAN'T be right..." Jacci scribbled out another note.

'Keep going.'

Ben stared at the slip of paper with Jacci's handwriting on it for a long, long moment, before he turned back to the card, staring at it for a while before muttering,

"Maybe it means you're going to... no, wait, this card symbolizes the past... So, you HAD a learning experience when you were a kid... or maybe... maybe you knew someone who was symbolized by this card... someone who had a lot of bad luck and never could do anything right who was a friend or..." Ben suddenly paused at the very blank look Jacci was giving him, then muttered, "...Jacci..." Jacci tipped her head and blinked, cutely, while Ben tried to think of a nice way to ask his question, "...Did you used to get your way a lot when you were little?"

Jacci punched him squarely in the jaw. She'd understood, anyway.

"Let's see what the next card is..." Ben muttered around the bump on his lower cheek, turning over the middle card. Queen of Flasks, "Means... developing romance, psychic powers, or a growing family..." Ben read and while Jacci's face went red, Ben considered, before finally blurting out, "Maybe you'll become a big sister soon."

This time, Jacci's fist hit his nose. This time, Ben didn't understand why.

"And your future card is..." Ben flipped it over and saw a picture of a tiny human figure wrestling with a rancor's silhouette, "Endurance..." He checked the entry, "...So, you're going to grow up to be strong, maybe healthier than you are now, strong willed, maybe you'll have a real friend who'll stick with you... and able to completely control yourself."

And then Ben ducked, but no punch came. Jacci remained staring at her cards, before letting out a sigh and scribbling out a third note.

'Yeah- that CAN'T be right.'

Ben stared at the note for a long time, before he finally grinned at Jacci and took the deck.

"Fine- you go do someone like my parents or Jaina or Jacen. I'll try telling someone's fortune on THIS ship." He declared, even as Jacci smirked at him. She took out a second deck and left the ship, passing Ben a note as she left.

'Good luck- Uncle Gornash is the only one left on THIS ship.'

* * *

"Um... Mister Gornash..." Ben somewhat shrank out of sight as the steward with white hair turned around and stared at him. With whatever he was doing, his eyes were a weird violet color, although they changed back to the usual blue-green color that they normally were when Ben found him in a small, dark room, lit only by the lamp on the desk.

Ben almost wanted to run, as the look Gornash was giving him was eerily similar to Saba's 'I'm going to eat you' look. Though, probably not on purpose.

"...Are you busy?" Ben finally managed to ask, feeling incredibly small, considering that he was intruding on someone else's time and privacy. Gornash stared at him for a moment as though he hadn't understood the words that had come out of Ben's mouth, before he glanced back down at whatever was on the desk, and then turning back to Ben.

"No. Was there something you needed?" He finally said. Ben paused, wondering what it was that he'd interrupted, before he held up the deck of sabacc cards.

"If I'm not interrupting anything, could I tell your fortune?" Ben asked, finally. Gornash blinked for a moment, before he replied, even if it wasn't an answer.

"Is this a bet with Mistress Jacci, by any chance?" He asked, slowly. Ben stared.

"How'd you know?" Ben asked, lowering the deck and frowning for a moment. Gornash's expression remained miraculously bored and disinterested.

"She's been doing these kinds of things for years now. We're all used to it by now." Gornash explained, leaning on the arm of his chair and propping himself up on his elbow. Ben blinked, rather nonplussed at this revelation, but in the end, said nothing about it, "So, what's the competition this time?" Ben held up the sabacc deck.

"I tell the fortune of someone on this ship, she'll tell the fortune of someone on my parent's ship, like my dad or my aunt or my cousins. And... since you're the only one on this ship..." Ben trailed off, but Gornash seemed to understand.

"...You have to do my fortune." He concluded, pulling over a table and turning on the main lights so the room wasn't so dark anymore. Ben squirmed inside, but came in at Gornash's invitation, handing him the deck to shuffle. Gornash cut the deck twice, then shuffled the cards before he handed it back and Ben started the cross-card spread.

"Okay... so, this card in the center is who you are..." Ben turned it over and saw the negative 14 looking back up at him, "...Moderation... So..." Ben glanced at the entry, "You need to work on controlling your temper or moderating bad habits..." Gornash's unusual eyes remained fixed on Ben's face with an intensity, yet detachment that unnerved Ben incredibly, before he backed off, "...Or maybe you're fine the way you are, but you're the person who reminds OTHER people to..."

"There's a second way to look at this card." Gornash interrupted, as Ben started to babble, "The reason the face cards are all named the way they are is based on a story, where the Idiot was the main character, who traveled the universe and encountered people, places, or situations like the cards. When he came upon moderation, he met a person sitting on a rock with their feet in a pool, pouring water from a jug into another jug. However, up close, the Idiot sees that the person is mixing a jug of water with a jug of fire."

Gornash stopped, and Ben understood what he meant to say, perfectly.

"Oh... so it can also mean a merging of opposites..." Ben clarified. Gornash's expression didn't change, but since he didn't say anything against it, Ben could only guess that he'd figured it out, correctly, "...So... that means..." Ben stopped, again, before he decided to just save himself the embarrassment and go on to the next card over it, "This next one is the Nine Coins... but it's upside down..." Ben looked back to the book, then to the card again, "...Since this is what's apparent in the conscious mind... this represents that you're a servant in the Countess's household..."

Gornash did not react, except to blink.

"A-and... the next card..." Ben turned over the one directly beneath the first, "...Is something in the far past that served as foundation for your life..." Ben was beginning to feel incredibly foolish, as this card was Amour, "...Um... you had a sweetheart?" He guessed. Gornash didn't react, "...Or something like that... who influenced you a lot..."

Gornash kept blinking, which made Ben wish he'd gone with a simpler spread that wouldn't be so hard to interpret.

"A-anyway... the next card is the recent past..." Ben flipped over the card that was on the left and found the Eight Sabers on the face, "...Um... and I think this means that... until recently... you were in a difficult situation that... Um... was difficult for you to do, but difficult for you to not do." Ben flipped through the pages of the book again and frowned at the explanation for the Eight Sabers, but couldn't read it out loud because of the language used. Gornash kept staring at him.

"Uh... and your... immediate future... uh..." Ben flipped over the card to the left of the first card, "...The Four Flasks..." But it was upside-down. Ben had had an easy time with this card when it had been normal, but now that it was flipped, he wasn't sure, "I think that means... it either means you're going to be very... not bored or dissatisfied with life, or not overindulging in things that are bad for you... so, your life is going to turn very active... or you're going to be just... fine... I guess..."

It was becoming unnervingly unhelpful how Gornash didn't react at all. The least he could have done was nodded- Ben felt like he was interviewing a stuffed bear. Either that, or the man across from him had lost his hearing within the last few minutes.

"...Um... and the card over the main one... is obstacles you have to over come..." Ben turned it over, wishing he hadn't dared Jacci in this stupid competition. Or, for that matter, that he'd ever listened to Jacen or Uncle Han and all their talk about 'Being a real man'. As far as Ben was concerned, no real man should have to feel THIS humiliated for no reason whatsoever, "Um... The Three Sabers... So... that means that... you're still hurt over something bad that happened some time ago... and that's causing you problems today..."

Ben glanced up, briefly, only to see two strange eyes staring blankly back at him. Ben looked away again and clumsily concluded with, "...That's all..."

Gornash remained unresponsive, except to blink.

"Couldn't you at least TELL me if I'm doing it RIGHT?" Ben asked. Gornash's expression at least changed- his eyebrows raised, at least.

"...You can tell Mistress Jacci that you told my fortune perfectly." He finally said, but it wasn't in a tone that encouraged Ben's abilities... more that encouraged Ben to just SPEAK highly of them, "...I won't tell anyone."

Ben continued to stare, nonplussed.

"She's not the only one who can tell fortunes on this ship." Gornash finally muttered and Ben understood.

"...She beat YOU like this once, didn't she?"

* * *

"So, we're going home?" Ben asked his father's back as his parents prepared the _Jade Shadow_ for flight. This is where he had found them as Gornash had come to retrieve the young mistress and take her back to the Countess's ship. Ben didn't hear his father's reply, but his mother responded well enough.

"Apparently, the CMC has a way with either words or money, but the Chiss and Killiks came to an agreement, and as soon as Raynar Thul gets back here, all of us are leaving." She said, before poking her head out and pausing for a moment, before she took two quick strides over to her son, "Ben, what happened to your FACE?"

Oh- Ben had forgotten the beatings Jacci had given him for insulting her the way he had, although one in a way he hadn't understood.

"I tripped." He said, automatically. Ben saw his mother frown.

"On WHAT?" She demanded, kneeling down and cautiously touching his nose to check that it wasn't broken. Ben didn't really reply, simply repeating 'I tripped.' as though she had suggested he HADN'T. Ben's mother raised an eyebrow, but since she couldn't get more answers out of her son, she stopped questioning.

"So... what happened with the Chiss, then?" Ben asked, more curious than ever. His mother had returned to setting the controls for take-off.

"The reason the Chiss were insisting that the Killiks were becoming a problem was because they were expanding their colonies towards Chiss space- not invading on it, but still close enough that it made the Chiss think they were going to try invading soon- even though they were not running out of space. From what Jaina and the others told us, the Killiks came to an agreement with the Chiss that they would move to a completely different system entirely- The CMC had offered them a planet to live on in the past, but they couldn't accept because they had no means of getting there- and the Chiss will provide them a route to get there, one nest at a time." Ben's father put in, also not looking back, "And Jacen's getting ready to leave ahead of us, to rally the Hapan fleet to lending ships to provide extra transportation, so this moving process doesn't take forever."

"...And... we're just LEAVING, then?" Ben asked, wanting to be sure on this point- it seemed like they'd only just gotten here, now they were leaving again. For a boy of eight years old, it was rather unsettling to be constantly moving around like this. And for Ben, it was making him nervous about something other than just moving around.

"As soon as Raynar gets back- he's been here too long with the Killiks, and it's not where he belongs." His father confirmed. Ben continued to glance between his parents, before he finally asked.

"A war's not gonna start, is there?" His mother actually turned around with some look of surprise, as though amazed her son could even THINK such a thing.

"Not if WE'VE got anything to say about it, no." She said, sternly, before Ben saw his father turn in his seat and give Ben a long, peculiar look, almost as though his father could see through Ben's head and into all the secrets he was keeping hidden up there.

"Ben, is there something you want to tell us?" His father finally asked. Ben managed to keep his face neutral, even as he felt sick inside. Indeed, there were a number of things he wanted to tell his father, but Ben just couldn't say any of them- some because he was too embarrassed, some because he didn't know HOW to say them, but most because he knew his parents just wouldn't listen, even if they heard him.

"No." Ben said, firmly. Ben saw his father's eyes harden, as though determined to see past Ben's lie and into the truth.

"Are you sure? We'll listen if it's something you think is important." His father said. Ben kept himself from scowling.

'No you won't.' He thought.

"It's not important, and I don't think you guys would want to hear it, anyway." Ben said, evasively, "It's called being a tattletale."

Ben's father's eyebrows raised, before he sighed.

"Ben, I heard you talking with the Countess about what you found out when you snuck into the formal dinner Chief Omas called." Ben felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, similar to how a ranat feels when it's been cornered by a cat, especially since he saw his mother shoot his father a look that he knew meant 'What's this about? Never mind- tell me later', "And if it's something important like that, you shouldn't feel like you're going to get in trouble for telling someone about it."

Ben let himself scowl this time.

"Except I always DO get in trouble." Ben snapped right back. His father's eyebrows shot up, but Ben didn't care- he felt so mad right now, partially with his parents, but also with himself, because he knew his father was right about telling someone.

Before his father could insist on anything, however, there was a knock on the door and Gornash reappeared, having found Jacci.

"Master Skywalker, am I interrupting something?" He asked, politely, as Ben took the opportunity to grab Jacci's hand and leave the room, still remaining within Gornash's eye range and close enough to hear what his parents said.

"...Not anymore." He heard his mother say, "Did you need something?"

From what Ben could see, Gornash was looking steadily uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid so- Milady has sent a transmission asking if she could borrow the usage of your astromech droid for a period of time..." Ben wanted to cheer, except it would be obvious he was listening in on the conversation. Jacci's hands were auspiciously still as she said nothing, so Ben knew she wanted to know, too.

"Doesn't ask for much, does she?" Ben heard his mother ask, sarcastically. Ben sneered- no Artoo meant they wouldn't be able to take off and leave. Sure, Uncle Han and Aunt Leia COULD go ahead without them, but Ben doubted it.

"I apologize for being the bearer of bad news, but she said it was something she needed the assistance of an astromech for, and as she doesn't have one of her own..."

"What? You have GOT to be kidding us!" Ben's mother's voice almost sounded shrill, except her voice just... didn't go that high. Instead, it sounded indignant.

"Madame Skwalker, please don't shoot the messenger..." Gornash's voice was growing increasingly strained, almost making Ben feel sorry for him, except that he was still too curious to leave room for much more.

"She can borrow Artoo when she gets back, but she owes us for this." Ben heard his father say, with an unusual display of irritation, but both Ben and Jacci were startled out of their concentration by two large hands clapping down on their shoulders. Ben let out an awkward squeak before he spun around and saw his Uncle Han's face grinning down at them.

"How're you two doin'?" He asked, cheerfully. Ben blinked for a few minutes, before he finally found his voice again.

"...Fine... kind of waiting for my parents to stop talking, but fine." Ben finally managed. Jacci didn't do anything but continue to stare at his Uncle with a confused expression, as though she knew someone who looked like him.

"Did you guys have some sort of bet going on or something?" Uncle Han asked, looking between them. Ben blinked for a moment, before he nodded, somewhat sheepishly, "'Cuz THIS little one..." Uncle Han shook Jacci by her shoulder just a little, "...Kept reading everyone's futures and stuff with a sabacc deck while they were supposed to be fixing the mess they caused on the _Falcon_."

Ben felt his ears go red, but Jacci looked unrepentant.

"...Sorry...?" He finally mumbled, but Uncle Han kept grinning.

"No, it's okay- I was trying to keep them all busy, anyhow. They're doing their mechanical duties now, since they couldn't earlier." Ben kept blinking, then glanced over at Jacci, who was also beginning to blush and act shy- act being the operative word, as Ben could tell she wasn't sincere about her humility in the least, "So, who won?"

Ben scratched the back of his head.

"I don't know, really... I had to tell Gornash's fortune and he said I did it perfectly, but there was a lot of stuff that I think I stumbled over, so..." Ben stopped as a prickling on the back of his neck told him that someone was staring at him. As Ben looked over his shoulder, he saw Jacci looking at him with a smug smirk which made him scowl.

"WHAT? YOU WANNA REMATCH OR SOMETHING?!" He shouted, even as Jacci turned away, still smirking.

Thankfully, Gornash finished with his discussion with Ben's parents and quickly escorted Jacci back to the Countess's ship, even as Ben kept shouting at her and her tongue hung out, egging him on.

Behind them, Jacen and Jaina had poked their heads out at the noise and were watching with identical expressions.

"Aw, look at THAT, Jacen- Ben's made a FRIEND..." Jaina noted, sounding like it was taking every muscle in her body to keep from laughing.

"Kinda like how we did with Raynar Thul, huh?" Jacen agreed, his own tone amused with the observation and how true it was, "Now, all they need to do is get kidnapped as many times as we did, and everything'll be just like old times."

Both the twins laughed for a moment.

"Yeah, like ANYONE could be kidnapped as many times as WE were." Jaina finally said as they sobered. Jacen nodded with her and then they disappeared before their father could catch them slacking off on what they were supposed to be doing.

A/N: I'll end it here, but every scene does have it's significance, whether to show the building relationships and strengthening bonds between characters, or character development, or symbolism and foreshadowing.

For some reason, I just DON'T LIKE the kind of action that normally takes place in the Star Wars books- I like stories about ninjas, not giant robots, if you know what I'm saying. So, when action sequences DO come up, they will more likely be karate action sequences instead of space battles. Just so you know.


	16. Part II: Chapter 3

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

Chapter 3:

"Thank you for allowing me to cross-reference with Artoo-Detoo, Master Skywalker- the Chiss were justified in being upset with their records in the condition they were in." _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Comte _noted as she straightened up from her seat. Luke said nothing, even as his wife was probably considering saying a few things that most would consider not fit for civilized conversation. It had only been a few moments, which made Luke thankful to the Maker that their plans to depart might not be as delayed as they had thought.

"What was it that the Chiss wanted to know that required Artoo's assistance, if I may ask?" Luke finally ventured, as the CMC made notes on a pad of paper. From what Luke could see, all that she had called up was a map of the system and neighboring systems in this star cluster, but nothing seemed particularly forthcoming until the Countess pointed at a particular planet with the end of her stylus, which was shaped like a feather.

"In the Chiss' databanks, this planet had been missing for some reason. Since the Killiks had been expanding their nests into neighboring systems, all of us wanted to be sure that no nest was left behind during the move. However, this planet had been erased from the Chiss memory banks, and thus, if we'd missed it and there had been some nests still there..." She let the sentence hang, but it was evident enough that no good would have come from it. With a frown, Luke leaned in to peer a bit closer at the system- Qoribu. He'd certainly never heard of it, but that didn't mean it didn't hold some importance out here.

"What makes you say that it was erased?" Luke asked, "You're certain that it wasn't accidental or simply had never been there to begin with?"

"That's usually what is meant by the phrase 'was erased', so unless I was raised in a different dialect of the language than the Masters Skywalker..." The Countess pointed out, though Luke saw no humor in her attitude, "I saw the Chiss' controls- to erase a piece of information is a complicated process that would be nearly impossible to do simply by 'accident'. And several members of the navigation crew knew there had been an extra planet in this sector than was showing. The only way it could be missing was if someone actively destroyed the file."

"And that means that somebody doesn't want us to find out about this system, or at least not know exact details about it's location." Luke finally concluded, frowning a little as he straightened, even as he heard Mara put in her own two credits.

"But why be so messy about it?" Luke turned, surprised, before Mara explained- the furrow in her brow was more of concern than disapproval, but the disapproval was still there. What it was for, Luke had no idea, "It was easy to tell that the information had been tampered with, given how several witnesses on board the Chiss ship knew about the system. And if this person really wanted us to not know about this planet, they would have erased it from all the computers and killed off the people who even had a faint memory of it's existence in the computer. Why would they be so sloppy like this?"

Luke had to feel a small surge of pride that Mara could think so critically under these conditions, but ultimately agreed she had a point. If someone had deliberately left clues behind to allow them to know someone had done the tampering, what assurance did they have that they weren't being led into a trap?

"Perhaps Madame just said it herself- they were sloppy. Just because someone is sent on a stealth mission doesn't mean they're good or an expert at it. It could have simply been done by someone incompetent." The Countess countered, even as Mara shot her a disgusted look.

"But if they are COUNTING on us to think that, we could be playing right into their hands." Mara said, sharply, even as Luke could tell she was growing impatient. The Countess raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Perhaps they are counting on us to OVER analyze and then fail to take any action, leaving them free to do as they wished. I'm simply asking you to make a decision and take action quickly, rather than stalling and giving our perpetrators the chance they may be waiting for." She replied, evenly without missing a beat. Luke heard Mara huff and knew she was keeping herself from swearing something quite nasty. That was the surest sign that the Countess had said just the right thing, because Mara was left without an answer.

There was an awkward silence, until the door slid open and a very frazzled Gornash stuck his head in, clinging to the doorframe and gasping for breath.

"Gornash, whatever is the matter? Did the younglings dare you to run a marathon?" The Countess asked, not sounding concerned in the least for her steward's well-being, until he managed to get a few words out.

"Milady... I was going to ask if Mistress Jacci... and Sieur Ben were in here... with you and Masters Skywalker..." Luke's ears perked up and he saw Mara's head swivel around at the mention of their son, especially as Gornash was making it sound like he was missing. The Countess frowned.

"Whyever should they be?" She asked, apparently not understanding the implications of Gornash's statement. He paid that no mind and indulged her the answer.

"I cannot find them, anywhere." He panted, "...I lost track of them when you returned... because Mistress Jacci ran off and Sieur Ben went with her." Luke had seen the two younglings do just that- almost determined to give their elders trouble, both Ben and Jacci had twisted out of Gornash's arms and scampered for the nearest ventilation duct on the _Jade Shadow_ that had allowed them to escape. Both Luke and Mara knew this because they'd used the vents to escape from their own ship several times in the past, themselves.

"Did you try the library- they've both taken up a keen interest in the obscure volumes I keep, recently." The Countess asked, even as Gornash shook his head, "Or the medical room? I can imagine Jacci suggesting to hide there because it's the one place you'd never LOOK." Gornash shook his head again, running a hand over his face to hide his shame.

"I've checked all the rooms on this ship. Twice. Some even three times." He reported, tiredly. The Countess remained unfazed, as though determined that her over endowment of patience alone would solve the problem.

"Then the _Jade Shadow_ or the _Millenium Falcon_. They might be hiding on board those ships, interrogating Captain Solo or terrorizing Nanna." She continued through the list of options, calmly. Gornash shook his head, again.

"I have made a most thorough search of these three ships and have not found hide nor hair of either of them. And the Unu have been cooperative enough that they all know Sieur Ben and Jacci are not outside, prowling the terrain." Gornash replied, which made the Countess pause for a moment in a way that made both the Skywalker parents increasingly nervous before she finally came up with another suggestion, though this one even more ridiculous than the others.

"Have you checked the chimney?" She asked, even as Gornash stared at her.

"Mi-LADY!" He protested, indignantly, before her eyes narrowed in a disciplinary manner. No doubt she thought her steward was dismissing it too quickly or was worried about making a mess.

"That's always where Hiken hides when we can't find him- you practically killed him when he was hiding up there and you started a fire in the oven, last baking day." She said in a tone, as though this should have been an obvious memory- which Luke had no doubts it was, but it was probably not a useful experience to recall.

"Milady! There's no chimney on this ship!" Gornash finally said in a much more dignified voice, which made the Countess pause and reconsider, before she said, slowly,

"Oh... I had forgotten..." Luke resisted the urge to smack someone on the forehead- whether it be himself or the Countess, he was starting to lose the ability to care.

"This does NOT inspire confidence..." Mara muttered, apparently thinking along the same lines. There was another pause, before, joking aside, the Countess then suggested.

"Has anyone else from this party left the planet, in, say, a StealthX or something of the sort?" Gornash blinked, before Luke answered the question.

"Jacen should have just left for Hapes, if that's what you're referring to." And, actually, it would make a great deal of sense for Ben to have hidden on his cousin's ship- given how eager Ben was for Jacen to pay attention to him and teach him all he knew, it would not be out of place in the slightest if Ben had somehow talked the Countess's sister into stowing away on the StealthX of Jacen Solo. However, as Luke saw a twitch in Mara's jaw, that only meant Ben hadn't learned his lesson from the last time Jacci had hidden on someone's ship.

The Countess shook her head, frowning.

"No... Sieur Ben adores his cousin, I will not dispute that point, but Jacci has very little trust for Sieur Jacen. She would have outright refused, no matter what Sieur Ben might have said. And, in any case, those two know better now than to go hiding on a small ship like that, after the emergency we had on our way here." Or not. Luke sighed, torn between feeling relieved that his son hadn't done something stupid, but worried, once more, to the whereabouts of Ben.

"Gornash, check on the Little Ones." The Countess suddenly ordered. Gornash blinked at his employer, nonplussed.

"Ma'am?" He asked.

"Check to see if the cabinet has been broken into or if anyone is missing." The Countess continued, "If so, I want to know who and when." The Countess then turned back to the map and pulled up more information on the coordinates of the planet called Qoribu.

"Yes'm." Gornash replied, before leaving the room. Luke shot the woman a strange look, questioning what she could possibly be doing, thinking about that poison collection of hers at a time like this, before he wondered if she was considering the possibility that someone had poisoned the two missing youngsters. Why she would immediately jump to this conclusion, Luke had no idea, as the person most likely to be the poisoner was her and her staff, though Luke knew better than to say this to her face.

"Milady." Gornash had returned, looking even more worn than before, "Chlora is missing." The Countess rose from her seat and quickly left the room, though with a determined air and set pace that made Luke have to sprint to catch up with her.

"Chlora? What did he mean by that?" Mara asked almost immediately. The CMC didn't look back.

"Chloroform. A carbon compound with hydrogen and chlorine, sometimes called methyl trichloride or trichloromethane. Carcinogenic, sometimes used as an anesthetic in very small doses, but inhalation of large amounts cause dizziness, fatigue, and unconsciousness, because it suppresses the nervous system. Too much can cause asphyxiation, shut down of the neural processes, and death.

"For most species, it's almost impossible to keep the dose small enough- so many non-humanoid species rely on their sense of smell instead of sight, thus making their nasal passages wider, more sensitive, and often connected directly to the brain, so even the slightest inhalation will be harmful. As such, only humanoid species have been known to tolerate doses of it without suffering too adverse of effects." The Countess explained, quickly, before Luke realized they'd followed her to the cockpit of her ship, "Master Skywalker, I suggest you return to your ship- take your Artoo unit, set course for the Gyuel system, and alert Captain Solo and the madame."

Luke stopped in his tracks, wondering briefly if she was speaking to him or Mara, before his brain seemed to comprehend that it was quite irrelevant at this point. Luke was beginning to understand what the Countess had figured out, just with the information she'd given them about chloroform- someone had stolen the poison, knocked out both Ben and Jacci, and kidnapped them. And it would certainly explain why someone would erase Qoribu from the file systems- they wouldn't want to be tracked and removing the planet coordinates from the system would ensure that, even if someone did discover the files had been tampered with, it would still be impossible to find the planet.

It would not be the first time Luke blessed Mara for her foresight in programming backup data into Artoo's memory banks. He also doubted it would be the last, even as both of them turned to leave and return to their own ship. It was the CMC who stopped Luke, one last time.

"One more thing- the younger Jedi... the Joiners... must not know, under any circumstances, that something is amiss." Luke paused in midstep, turning with a frown towards the Countess, even as she didn't elaborate.

"Why not? I know Jaina well enough that if she heard Ben had been kidnapped, she would put twice as much effort into finding him as anyone else on these ships." Well, that wasn't entirely true, but extra effort would certainly help in the retrieval of the two young ones. The Countess turned and frowned.

"I have no doubts about that. But the person responsible for Sieur Ben's disappearance is one of the Joiners- one of them has betrayed the Nest of the Unu or perhaps was never loyal to begin with, and if the Joiners know that we are on a rescue mission, or even that we suspect, the person responsible will also know and it will only be more difficult to locate your son and my sister again."

Luke heard Mara's footsteps cease falling as she turned and stared at the Countess, as well. Part of it was the reminder that they were not the only ones with family missing in this incident and a warning to keep their heads, but it was some strange amount of shock that, from so little evidence, most of it which Luke and Mara couldn't even see, this woman had already drawn a conclusion like this.

"And before you even ask, I know because the Killiks, while they could very well have STOLEN the chloroform, could not have used it, because Chlora's toxicity is greatly increased on insects, to the point that just opening the bottle would have killed any Killik within inhalation distance. They could not have been behind the kidnapping. Then, there are the other species on this planet- ourselves, the Captain and Jedi Solo, and the Joiner Jedi. Humans are also at risk to the effects of chloroform, but because all the Humans on this planet were accounted for at the time of the kidnapping, they could not have stolen the poison, and thus not have used it.

"That leaves us with the non-Human Joiners and Master Sebatyne. Sieur Lowbacca- still recovering in medical room. Master Sebatyne and her son- on a hunt and Barabels, whom are among the species that are extra sensitive to the toxic fumes of chloroform because they are heavily dependent on taking in chemicals from the air and processing it in the olfactory bulbs. The Chadra-Fan Jedi- also particularly sensitive to the adverse effects of chloroform." The Countess's voice had lost it's elegant tone as she impatiently listed off the reasons for her deduction on her fingers, "That leaves only one person who could have done it, was unaccounted for at the time of the two younglings' disappearance, and had a motive."

Luke opened his mouth to say that he could see no reason why ANYONE would have a motive to kidnap BEN, of all people, before it occurred to him that there could be a number of reasons, none of which had to do with Ben, himself, as a person. For one thing, Ben was Luke's son- if anyone wanted to try and twist the Jedi Master's arm, the logical step would be to take a hostage that Luke would bend for. For another thing, Ben was innocent- it would be effective in forcing anyone's hand, even the Chiss with their strict honor code.

Then, given how Luke now knew who the Countess was referring to as the kidnapper, there was possibly a reason that had absolutely nothing to do with logic- simple madness, passion, and a thirst for power and vengeance that had overridden sense and sensibility.

"She's right, Mara... we should have expected something like this- Alema Rar was doomed to fall ever since Myrkr." Luke admitted, quietly.

* * *

Currently, Ben was not very sure of where he was or why he was there. This did not change the fact that his head hurt, terribly, as though someone was pounding on both sides of his skull with a two-ton hammer in alternating strokes- first his head felt like it would explode, then it felt like it was caving in.

His stomach was twisting itself into knots and his very bones ached for some reason. What was even worse was this sensation that didn't come from his stomach or bones, but like every blood vessel in his body was protesting the relentless hammer of his blood flowing through them. It was a disgusting image, but he could picture some very nasty diseases going on inside him from the way his whole body hurt- every pain, cramp, ache, and burn inside him felt like what he imagined a cirrhotic liver or malfunctioning kidney to feel like, before his eyes opened and he understood why.

The room he was in was dark and cramped, but he could see Jacci a few feet away, curled up into a ball and rocking back and forth. Ben wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he remembered the nightmarish experience of Jacci's stowaway and recognized the symptoms repeating themselves. In any case, he understood why he was feeling sick and suddenly found himself wishing that his empathy no longer worked with Jacci. Still, he managed to move over a little and poked at Jacci in the arm, just enough that she glanced up and saw him there.

There was a noise of clicking and rumbling, so much like what Ben had heard from those giant insects Uncle Han had hated so much, but there was something else in the noise. There was maliciousness and animosity and hunger... so much hunger. Then, a smell hit his nose that made Ben's insides lurch- part of it was the acidic scent of whatever it had been that had sent his head spinning like it was now, but there was something worse. It was pungent and stinging, thick and heavy that permeated Ben's senses even as he held his breath to keep from breathing it in. He even plugged his nose, but the smell lingered on inside from the single time he'd breathed it in.

Next to him, Jacci was shuddering even worse, until she apparently lost control from all of the thick, horrible stench in the air and threw up. It was just enough to prompt Ben's gag reflex, too, and the smell of vomit joined the odor in the air already. Ben was starting to wonder if he should try throwing up a few more times to see if it would cover up the smell of whatever it was that was making him sick- even that seemed preferable to whatever it was here.

"What? What's wrong with them? I thought they were healthy!" Ben could hear a voice over himself and Jacci, even if he couldn't see who it was or who they were speaking to. It sounded male, but unfamiliar. The next voice sounded vaguely familiar- Ben knew he'd heard it before, but not enough times that he'd be able to put a name or face to it, rather like it was a new acquaintance.

"I thought they were, too- nothing was wrong with them when we left." It was also a female voice, but Ben didn't want to look up and see who was speaking- something inside him was quailing and telling him that he didn't want to look up into the face of doom that voice was coming from. In fact, the more the two people over them spoke, the sicker and sicker Ben felt, to the point that he was beginning to wonder if he was suddenly with the same affliction as Jacci.

"You should have been more sure." The first voice said, "They're useless if they die." He sounded annoyed, and through his empathy, Ben could feel a spike of anger that was overrun by the pain and sickness coming from Jacci, becoming so great that Ben could hear himself groaning and moaning where he was sure she would have if she could speak.

"Do something, then! I can't do anything like this."

The smell... the anger... the hatred... the darkness... the pain... Ben's head was swimming, until, finally, he curled into a ball, vomited again, and began to convulse.

'If this is what Jacci goes through every time she doesn't get her medicine...' Ben's thought never finished, as his head swam and he passed out.

* * *

"Is anyone else seeing a technical difficulty here?" Han's voice came over the comm between the ships easily enough that Luke understood perfectly what he meant. Below them, just as the ships had pulled out of hyperspace, the planet of Qoribu rotated slowly with it's clouds of greenish gray swirling in endless storms, typhoons, hurricanes, tornadoes, and swirling winds that turned the stripes of colored gas into spots and the rings surrounding it glowing faintly, like a captured moment of a ship zooming around the planet in circles.

Qoribu was nothing more than a giant ball of gas around a planet core.

"I'll admit, I'm failing to see how ANYTHING can live on THAT." Mara muttered, "Is there even enough planet surface to keep your foot on?" Luke continued to study what he could, wondering if there was something they were overlooking on this planet. His sensors had picked up only the information of a gas giant, and the Force was revealing no other kind of hidden secrets. Qoribu was not the place they were looking for.

"Check the moons." Leia's voice instructed, with a kind of finality that made Luke wonder if she was already looking at a map of Qoribu's moons. Indeed, following her instructions, Luke found himself met with a display of several different satellites orbiting the gas giant. The question was which one?

"We have to search them all, individually." Came a third voice from the comm system, which Luke had come to recognize as the CMC, "Some will be inhabited by Killik Nests, some will not be, and some the Killiks will THINK have no nests but in truth, will. We simply need to find the right one."

"Alright then- we'll take one-third of the this sector, you guys take the other two thirds. Meet back up here in four hours." Han said again, and then the comm went dead with it's signal from the Millenium Falcon. The CMC's ship disappeared from the radar, leaving Luke and Mara to start their own search. With a sigh, Luke leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as Mara continued to pilot.

"Just tell me where to go, Farmboy." She said, and Luke could feel that she was, indeed, ready to go at his slightest motion. Luke nodded, but kept breathing in slowly and deeply.

"...I can feel... something..." He said, quietly. There was the slightest of shifts in the Force as Luke could feel Mara tapping into him with her mind, lending him her strength, strengthening their connection, feeding him what she could to make it possible for him to feel out the Force, "...Somewhere nearby... but... farther..."

"Port or starboard?" Mara asked. Luke focused on the feeling he was getting, thinking hard to put it specifically on one side or another, before he finally decided.

"Starboard. I'll tell you when to go." Mara turned the ship and set her coordinates, while Luke focused on the game of hot and cold and hoped to whatever deity there was that Ben wasn't hiding himself in the Force like he usually was, "... We'll have to go slowly... try the first moon nearby, and I'll tell you what I'm picking up..."

Mara did as Luke instructed, setting the coordinates, then punching the engines. The ship went at a slower pace than usual- much slower- but Luke and Mara remained relaxed, Luke focusing all his energy on the Force for some sign of their son, or at least a disturbance that told him where he might be concealed, while Mara remained closed off, even from their bond.

Something was bothering her.

"Mara?" Luke asked, quietly. Mara didn't turn around.

"Farmboy, you're gonna tell me exactly what you heard when you mentioned this conversation between OUR son and that woman- particularly what was it that was so important that we SHOULDN'T have gotten mad at him for sneaking into a private function?" Mara asked, voice low as Luke tried to keep focused on finding said son.

"Mara..." He said, trying to be pacifying, "You have to hear everything before you get angry- do you promise me that?" Mara made a noncommittal noise, but Luke knew her well enough to understand that she was agreeing, just too proud to say it.

"As far as I could tell, one night, Chief Omas held a party for the CMC- probably because he wanted to know where she came from or more about her background, like the rest of us, and wanted to make her feel welcome before interrogating her or something of that sort." Mara snorted- experience had taught Luke that this was generally a sign that Mara Jade was working out the puzzle that he didn't understand.

"Ben, apparently, snuck in- but you probably figured that out already- And while he was there, Ben felt something with his empathy about someone else who had been invited to the event. He felt that someone else in the room was feeling... how did he say it? They were having murderous thoughts... and planning to kill someone else in the room." Luke continued. Mara said nothing and Luke could feel no change in emotion, which made him more sure than ever that Mara was alarmed by this news.

The silence stretched for a long, long moment, before Mara spoke.

"Once we reach the nearest moon, will you be able to sense Ben's exact location, or are we just playing hot-and-cold, here?"

"Hot and cold." Luke confirmed, "And don't changed the subject you just steered us onto." Mara made a small hmph-ing noise, but didn't argue.

"Well, even if someone was planning a murder, Ben still didn't know WHO, right?" She asked, not taking her eyes from the approaching moon. Luke sighed.

"I'm not sure- that's why I wanted to be able to talk with Ben about this, but then..." Luke stopped in mid sentence, "...If we could find out who it was, and who they were planning to kill... Mara, would you go back and try to stop it from happening?"

Mara didn't turn around to look at him, but said nothing. Tentatively, Luke tried to reach out to her with the Force, but it was almost impossible- Mara was pouring her energy into the flow through their bond directly into him, right to the point where Luke trying to reach into her mind was like trying to swim against a river current. There was something she didn't want him to know. Or, perhaps, she was mad at him.

Luke sighed and resigned himself to a journey that would be in uncomfortable silence.

The remote satellite of Kr came into view, the pull getting stronger as Luke felt something inside him screaming that this was where they wanted to go.

"Mara, go in for a landing- this is it."

* * *

There was a faint buzzing in the back of Ben's head- he knew part of it was that he was feeling Jacci's disorientation, illness, and pain, but there was something else, something different, and it made him feel... watered down. Like part of him was being filled with something and forced to mix, like oil and water.

He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to. He felt tired and dizzy and sick and wished he could go back to sleep, or fall unconscious, one or the other. It would be infinitely easier on his pounding head.

Then... there was this strange sense in his chest of... well, there was fear and panic, which he felt plenty of, but there was anger and hatred and all sorts of things that made him feel poisoned from the inside and that Ben didn't even understand why he was feeling them... Oh, wait... his empathy- that would do it... but who else was AROUND to project those emotions? Ben didn't feel anyone else there...

And then, there was something like a thought running through his head- not an emotion, but more of a desire that was somehow integrating itself with him, even though he didn't understand it at all... the desire to hide and never be found...

But why?

There was a loud thump nearby that spooked Ben enough that he sat straight up, eyes wide open looking for the noise. There was no apparent cause, not from what Ben could see, but he did recognize a face as someone was walking towards him and Jacci with two bowls. It was the Twi'lek woman whom had disappeared with Jaina and the other Jedi, even though Ben didn't remember her name.

Ben sat up a bit straighter, meaning to ask any number of questions, from 'Where are we' and 'What happened' to 'How long have we been here' and 'Is someone going to rescue us', until he noticed a strange difference in the mere presence of the woman... he'd only seen her once before, but there was such a vast difference in her aura from how it had been then that Ben knew right away something was wrong with her. Just enough that Ben scrambled backwards as quickly as he could, only to meet the wall. The Twi'lek mostly ignored him, putting the two bowls down and then turning to leave, quickly. Jacci hadn't moved for a long moment, except for shuddering and twitching, to the point that Ben wondered if she was still okay. She'd been worse on the ship, but there was still part of Ben's head that was ticking off hours until she wouldn't be okay anymore.

Even though he wasn't entirely interested in the food, Ben looked down into the contents of the bowl, nose wrinkling at what looked like cheese halfway through the process wading in a pool of whey. Jacci didn't seem particularly interested in it, either, so neither of them touched it.

Vaguely, Ben wondered what he could do in this situation since there was no gelmeat or water on hand. He tried his hardest to think of what the Countess would advise, managing to recreate a very accurate image of her face and voice in his head, but no words past 'The best thing to do would be...' came to mind. Jacci mostly kept herself curled up into a ball and against the wall to protect herself, so Ben let her be until he reached back and took one of her hands to talk.

' ' Jacci, what do you think happened ? ' ' Ben asked, trying to tap on her palm carefully. Jacci peeked at him from behind her knees- already, her eyes were puffy and her skin was discolored. Ben tried not to stare.

' ' They used chloroform . ' ' Jacci answered. Her hand shook very badly as she "spoke" but Ben eventually figured out what she'd said, and even then, didn't quite understand what she meant, ' ' Chloroform is from Neh-Nii-Kah's collection . I accidentally smelled it once and almost passed out . That's what they used to put us to sleep . After that , I don't know . ' ' Jacci answered. Ben's head drooped before he asked another question.

' ' Do you think they're going to eat us or something ? They haven't done anything really bad , and they're feeding us , too so . . . ' ' Ben asked even as Jacci shuddered. Apparently, this had been on her mind, as well.

' ' I thought so , too . I heard one of the adults talking about how to make us something like Joiners . . . I thought that meant they were parasites or something . ' ' Joiners... that word jogged something in Ben's memory as his eyes widened.

' ' Joiners ? That's what Jaina and the other's have become , Dad said . . . I don't know what it means , but he sounded REALLY upset about it . . . maybe you're right about the parasite thing . . . ' ' Ben paused, then suddenly didn't feel so good anymore, ' ' Maybe they're already attached to us or something . Or what if they're like worms that live in your stomach ? We could already be Joiners and not even know it . ' ' Jacci's face, from what Ben could see of it, assumed a fairly disgusted expression, before she smiled, a little.

' ' Maybe it'll be useful that I'm sick for once , so that whatever I'm a Joiner of will get sick and die , too . ' ' Jacci suggested, looking gleeful at the prospect. Ben smiled back, faintly- it would serve the things right if they died from infesting Jacci, but the way she said it hadn't been very comforting- if nothing else, Ben was feeling very worried that Jacci WOULD die. Even Jacci's amusement was short-lived as she started to shudder again. Ben let go of her hand, but scooted a bit closer, just in case she fell over.

Then, Ben heard the sound of screaming and blaster fire before sudden pain assaulted his insides, like he was being roasted alive. Every nerve was searing with blinding pain, even as it increased- it was as though he was suddenly more than one person, but several people who were all being tortured in different ways. He felt like his arms and legs were being torn off one second and then the next, as though someone had blasted a hole through his head. Only in a second of clarity before the next fit came, Ben saw that Jacci seemed to be suffering the same way, because she'd begun convulsing just the way he was.

And then, Ben felt himself being hauled to his feet by the back of his collar, adding a choking sensation about his throat to the various pains.

"Ben!" It was a voice that sounded very similar to his father's but Ben really couldn't tell- his head was swimming and all of his limbs were on fire with agony. Maybe his eardrums had exploded in his head- it wouldn't have come as too much of a shock if someone told him that, oh wait, you can't hear anything without your eardrums, never mind, but you can still see things so why was the world all pitch black and empty, except for all these faces that he was seeing, like himself and those strange people and all the bodies that were everywhere and why did some get to live and others had to die and why those and not some others and why did it have to be ME?

"They are part of us, now, Master Skywalker- every one of us you kill, you kill them, too, now. Put down your saber." Ben was back on the ground now, but there was still that strange sense of being filled with other images and emotions- Ben couldn't tell if he was upside down or right side up or rolling over and over in circles. Three of his arms were flailing while the others were twisting and coiling into circles around his body, wait, he only had two arms, didn't he? Ben wasn't sure anymore, because it felt like he had more than two arms and two legs, or even an extra head of sorts.

And speaking of that second head, why were there so many bad things going through it? Ben could hear screaming and shouting, anger and hatred and terror, this sense of urgency, but being trapped and unable to fulfill the mission, god DAMN it, they couldn't stay here any longer... And who was there? That face, that aura, that shape...

For a moment, Ben could swear he saw a completely different scene, focused unlike all the other images. The room wasn't as dark, but it was still dark enough that the red on the walls looked more like blood than the clay of the planet, and empty, with a single shadow on the floor from a single person... except there was someone else in the room, but they were more of a vapor than a being...

And then, everything was gone and Ben found himself staring up at his parents, still trapped under the foot of the Twi'lek woman, and Jacci somewhere behind him.

* * *

The room was dark, but litten enough that she could read and plot. The star charts were irritating to do, but necessary. They'd gotten so off track, what with the war and all, and to end up in a place like this of all things. At least they could turn this to their advantage- the Killik's ability to absorb anyone into their hive mind who spent enough time around them was unexpected, but certainly useful. And if the entire galaxy were to become part of the hive, the way things were planned to go.

Lomi Plo tapped her stylus irritably against the star chart, even as she tried to plot a new course. The best possible way would have been to start a war- that would have brought in soldiers from all over the galaxy, Chiss and Alliance alike, would have melded them to some nest of Killik or another, directly controlled and influenced by the Unu, then in turn controlled by the Gorog. And it wouldn't have been a mere tyranny like the Empire had been- it would have made Lomi Plo a PART of each and every individual in the galaxy.

Until that woman began to interfere.

Raynar Thul had been useful as a pawn, and when he'd first discovered that woman's arrival, Lomi Plo knew that all the plans she'd made were going to be tampered with. And now, Alema Rar had ruined any chance of them possibly slipping away, unnoticed by kidnapping the two little ones. Even their usefulness as a way to manipulate the masters and that woman were outweighed by the fact that it had drawn attention to them. And now, she could no longer hide.

Though, if she could figure out a way to subdue the two masters who had arrived, maybe the Gorog would find themselves with two new Jedi as Joiners. And the two greatest masters in the Order, no less.

But it wasn't something Lomi Plo could count on. She had to think several steps ahead to make this possible. As Alema Rar was already in a combat mode with them, it would be hard to stay ahead of them- the delaying tactic Alema Rar was using by threatening their son would only last so long.

Now, if only...

There was a tap behind her, one which Lomi Plo had not noticed before. It couldn't be Welk, so who...

"I hope you don't mind- the door was open, so I let myself in." Said a strangely unique voice from the direction of the noise. Lomi Plo spun so quickly that she almost lost balance. Indeed, standing behind her, in a fine black cloak that wrapped around her like a pair of bat's wings and a tall black hat perched on her head, was that interfering woman. How she'd managed to get past the guards, Lomi Plo didn't understand, nor did she know how this woman had found her in the first place, let alone how she could just waltz in as though she owned the place, but Lomi Plo calmed herself quickly and retained composure.

"I don't mind, but I do believe it is custom to introduce yourself before you begin speaking so informally." Lomi Plo replied. The CMC chuckled in a sound that seemed to be going up in pitch with every beat. It was like hearing the voice of a boy slowly being transitioned into that of a woman.

"I do not need to introduce myself to you, Nightsister Plo." Replied the CMC. Her voice was even higher than before, but Lomi Plo didn't know if she was deliberately putting it higher to sound falsely sweet or if there was some other reason. Altogether, the effect was eerie, but Lomi Plo remained impassive, even as she attempted to focus on the Force to conceal herself. This only caused the CMC to chuckle again, mockingly, "And please do not play games with me, young one. I have no doubt your skill is impressive..."

Her tone was that of a teacher who was admiring a student's mastery of a rudimentary skill, before turning into one of admonishment and a sneering condescension.

"...But it is useless against me." She was advancing. Lomi Plo's hand dropped to saber ready mode, her blade coming out of her sleeve in a flash and igniting as she prepared for battle. But as she charged the CMC only smiled.

Lomi Plo didn't even seem to be moving- her feet suddenly wouldn't lift off the floor. She glanced down for just a moment and saw that there was something wrapped around her ankles, like tendrils that had no weight or mass...

_"Sie unmoglich sois avant durchkreuzen moi... Denn etes enfant moi im Vergleich mit."_Her voice had changed again, but this time, it echoed through Lomi Plo's head, as though the woman had not spoken, but rather as though Lomi Plo's own mind had created the voice. If that wasn't enough, the way the woman was walking, as though she did not even touch the ground, and the language she'd used and that gleam in her eyes that were flashing like the steel of a blade...

Lomi Plo dropped her lightsaber and tried to turn to run. The light went out as the entire room vanished in an ooze of darkness that seemed to move like a liquid, but held all the properties of a gas and yet seemed not to exist all at the same time. The CMC moved closer, her face changing as the moments went by- it was as though the pleasant mask she normally wore was melting away to reveal the ghoul

_"Te raconte ab mir... Non moi presen nicht notig... Im Begriff sein du tuerent denn."_

There was the sensation of something slithering up to her neck, curling around her limbs and seeping through to her bones.

Then it all seemed to vanish.

* * *

Ben's head felt like it had been broken open and his insides burned and writhed, but somehow, the pain felt very dull- like a surgery had just begun and, realizing he was still in pain, the attending medic had just begun to apply more anesthesia, and in any case, the cut made was to take out something inside of him that had been rotting. He could think clearly again, and that was always a plus, but he could also still feel resounding screams from others around him. He could hear the silent scream coming from the Twi'lek woman who had threatened him, but it was drowned out by the waves of both sickness and relief that were coming from Jacci.

Why could he feel her now, when his empathy had never worked before with her, anyway? For that matter, why was his empathy reacting to the Twi'lek woman and all the insects, when it used to only work with Humans?

"Ben?" That was definitely his mother's voice he heard. Idly, Ben wondered when and how she'd found him, but at the current time, he wasn't going to complain- if it meant they were going to be rescued from something they didn't even know what it was, all was good.

"I'm okay, Mom..." Ben muttered, faintly, even as he tried to sit up a little. There was a distinctive snap-hiss and Ben felt something hot wavering nearby his throat, close enough that he didn't dare move in case he accidentally burned himself, before he felt his mind being flooded with those emotions and that pain again, all of it being multiplied as he felt a wave of sickness that was undoubtedly from Jacci.

"We don't care what happens to them now- drop your sabers or we will slit a throat or two." The Twi'lek woman was speaking this time, and from what she seemed to deliberately forcing into Ben's mind, he knew that she was serious. At this point, Ben really didn't care about himself- his parents and aunt and uncle had handled problems like this before when it was Jacen and Jaina, so he was fairly confident they would be able to work something out. It was Jacci's presence that was making things difficult, because she was sick already to begin with. Ben knew he could handle a few scratches and bruises, but if Jacci was hurt even in the least bit, it could easily kill her.

And it all led back to the fact that, if he had told someone that she'd been on board when the mission started, Jacci might have been sent back home and wouldn't be in this mess at all. Ben didn't make any sudden move, or even say anything. They were in enough trouble as it was- he would have to trust his parents to handle it.

There was a clatter on the floor and from his peripheral vision Ben could see two lightsabers on the ground, and two crystals laying next to them. His parents had surrendered.

The blade next to his throat moved and Ben got to his feet- he knew what there was to do. If he could pretend that he was on the Twi'lek's side, maybe he could give his parents an opening, to knock him and Jacci out or something. Then, they wouldn't have to worry about the two of them getting hurt- or maybe he could convey a message to his parents without the Twi'lek noticing and they could come up with a plan from there or maybe...

Well, alright, none of it made sense, really, but it was a good idea, right? Right?

Ben snatched up his father's lightsaber, put the crystal back in and charged. He could see his parent's confusion, but followed his legs as they moved. His father dodged, even as kept his eye on them. Now, how to get a message... that's it- with every strike that missed, he could carve parts of letters into the stone on the walls or something like that. On this next pass...

Ben lunged again, following his feet, but the blade missed both his father and the wall. Oh well, he'd try again on the next pass...

Again... on the next one, then...

_"Ben, why are you doing this?"_ It was definitely Jacci's voice that Ben could hear in his head, even if he wasn't clear enough in mind to question WHY he could hear it, especially now.

_"Because I might be able to get a message to them or something if I do this..." _Ben tried to explain, even as he realized he wasn't doing a very good JOB of it, _"If I attack my parents, I might be able to save them."_

Ben focused for a moment on his footwork, taking a leap into the air and attacking from above. He didn't even see the world around him- it was all just a blur as he moved faster than he'd ever thought possible.

_"Ben, are you HEARING yourself? You're not making sense- someone else is manipulating you."_ What? But if that were true, wouldn't Jacci be manipulated, too? Or was there something else in the meaning of that phrase? Oh well, in any case, there was work to be...

_"Ben, ask your parents what 'Joiner' means. Maybe that'll help."_ Jacci suggested again. Oh, yeah, that would be a good think to say- maybe then those two would understand what was happening and then...

"Master Skywalker..." Ben said, even though his voice didn't sound like his own- it felt more like someone had recorded it and it was playing back a recorded message now, "Do you know what a 'Joiner' is?"

* * *

"Do you know what a 'Joiner' is?"

Mara had only just barely dodged her own son's attack, wondering what the hell had happened, when he'd learned this kind of technique, and why in the hell he was attacking THEM, when Ben had asked this question. And then, everything made sense.

Ben and Jacci were Joiners now- Joiners of the Gorog or, if Mara had to put a name on this nest, a Dark Nest Joiner. And, if Ben's actions were any indicator, the Gorog could use the Joiner's bond to possess each other. Alema Rar had already fallen, so now, she was using Ben as a pawn. It made sense, even if it was difficult to work out.

But why wasn't Jacci being possessed, then? Was Mara wrong, or was Alema Rar trying to use the difference as a ruse to cast doubt in Mara's mind, or was it just that the little girl was simply not of use as a pawn the way Ben was? Because she was sick or just because she wasn't Luke and Mara's child the way Ben was, and thus, couldn't be used?

Either way, Mara was fairly confident that the CMC showing up would be more of a hindrance than a help. She and Luke could handle this if they could get a clear plan worked out, but for the time being, Mara dodged Ben as he continued to attack in a fashion and style that he certainly hadn't been capable of before.

'Farmboy, you take out Alema Rar- I'll get the saber away from Ben.' Mara thought. She couldn't exactly communicate words to her husband, but they had enough of a bond that she could feel from his mix of trust, yet confusion, that he'd gotten the general picture of what she'd meant to say. That was enough, before they split.

Luke moved so quickly that, even if Mara had been giving him her full attention, she doubted she would have seen him. He ran in a full circle around the room- almost running on the ceiling, to be precise, staying out of the line of fire and moving unpredictably, coming down behind Alema Rar as she hadn't even expected him to.

At almost the same instant, Mara ducked from Ben's next swipe, spinning low to the ground enough for her to scoop up her own lightsaber and the ignition crystal, throwing them both like discs in curves around her son, but with deliberate precision as Mara controlled them with the Force- her empty saber hit Ben's hand, enough that his grip on his father's saber slipped and he lost control for a split second.

That was all Mara needed. She forced the focusing crystal back into her own lightsaber, activating it in mid-air and the very tip touching the ignition button on Luke's saber, the heat from her blade almost brushing against Ben's hands, forcing him to drop the saber and recoil.

The moment Ben had released Luke's saber, Mara was next to Ben, firmly restraining his wrists, just in case Alema Rar decided to do anything cute, again.

"Farmboy, here's your saber- finish her off." Luke had, somehow, managed to restrain Alema Rar. Whether he'd used the Force to subdue her or had just resorted to hand-to-hand combat methods, either way, Luke was holding Alema Rar limp. Mara kicked Luke his lightsaber, even as she saw him hesitate, "She attacked us first, and if she wakes up, she'll try to kill all four of us- this isn't the time for debating ethics."

Mara could feel Luke struggling, at this point. There was still something in him that couldn't bring himself to kill the stupid traitor, even though she'd kidnapped two children and tried to use them against Luke and Mara and done any number of other horrible things.

"I'm just trying to decide what the most humane way of killing her is." Luke finally called. Ben wasn't struggling, so that much was well and good, but Mara could feel her patience thinning.

"She's unconscious. Cut her head off while she's still like that. That's humane- she won't feel a thing." Mara shouted. Luke continued to hesitate, and Mara knew that he didn't want to kill someone if there was a way to do it differently- if they had more time, Mara supposed, they COULD do it differently, like by putting her in a coma, or maybe doing something so she could never use the Force again, or maybe to separate her from the Dark Nest so she wasn't a Joiner anymore, but right now, they kind of had a deadline.

"Farmboy, just do it- there's no other way." Mara yelled, but her own voice didn't feel quite as sure anymore. She didn't want to have blood on her hands either, and there was still the fact that, if Alema Rar hadn't been lying a moment ago, Ben and Jacci would feel her die, too.

Luke activated his lightsaber, but there was a noise over in the corner. Mara's head snapped around and saw a familiar man in a black suit holding Jacci off the floor by her hair with a red lightsaber to her throat.

"Neither of you move, or the girl dies." Welk declared, scowling.

A/N: I know it's short, but I have a paper to write, and the next part of the scene will be long. Very long. Wait for the next chapter.

And, what the CMC said in that scene with Lomi Plo... something along the lines of... "Those tricks are impossible for you to oppose me with, for you are but a child before me" and "I told you that I do not need to introduce myself to you, for you are about to die"

Remember, the way she speaks is VERY garbled... and I don't really remember what words I used, anyhow.


	17. Part II: Chapter 4

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

A/N: Just as a warning- this chapter is extremely violent and bloody. I mean, really, as far as chapters go, this is the most gruesome one, yet. There's gore and blood, people get killed in some spectacularly messy and nasty ways, and we see one of our favorite Star Wars themes return- people getting hands and arms swiped clean off. That being said, there's purpose in it all, so I'm not just trying to gross people out when they read. If you don't like the nitty gritty details, you can skip those, because they were more to convey how seriously BAD things are going and fill up space to create tension, suspense, and make the chapter long enough to post.

Thank you. Now enjoy.

Chapter 4:

_Jacci felt a hand rest on her head as the shadows grew long. Without even turning around, she scribbled out a note and held it up for Neh-Nii-Kah to see._

_'You're late.'_

_"Now, Jacci, I know school let out three hours ago, but a black cat crossed my path, so I had to go the long way around." Jacci swiveled and scowled at her caretaker, whose expression was some combination of strained lightheartedness and sincere worry. Jacci snorted before scribbling out another note._

_'Like it does you any good. Next time, send Uncle Gornash to pick me up.' But she fell into step behind Neh-Nii-Kah as the elder started walking, anyway._

_"You know Uncle Gornash is busy- he can't come and get you every day." Somehow, Neh-Nii-Kah managed to sound so lighthearted about topics like this, and still fussed over Jacci's health and wellbeing to the point of keeping her locked up in the house all the rest of the day that she wasn't in school._

_'You're just as busy, but YOU come.'_

_"That's because you're MY sister. And coming to pick you up from school isn't something I have to go out of my way to do, in any case." Neh-Nii-Kah's voice was firm, ending the argument, before the subject changed, "How have you been doing this week with the other girls? Nobody's still picking on you, I hope?"_

_Jacci kicked at a stone and didn't answer, until Neh-Nii-Kah turned around and raised an eyebrow._

_"...Still that bad?" Jacci didn't look up and meet her sibling's gaze._

_'Nobody's calling me ugly, anymore.' Neh-Nii-Kah's toe tapped on the ground, impatiently, but Jacci continued to avoid eye contact._

_"So... they've gone back to harassing you about your eye, then?" As much as she loved the excuse for a parent that Neh-Nii-Kah was, Jacci really detested the motherly moods her elder sibling could get into, especially when it got to the point that Neh-Nii-Kah tried to "fix" everything- very rarely did anything get solved. It was the single thing that Neh-Nii-Kah had no skill for, to fix other people's problems for them. Second only to the inedible food that came from Neh-Nii-Kah's sessions in the kitchen._

_'Nobody's picking on me about ANYTHING.' Jacci insisted, still not looking at her sibling. There was a pause as Jacci could hear Neh-Nii-Kah waiting for a real answer, which Jacci finally gave._

_'It's just not NORMAL, though. I mean, nobody else has a weird eye like this, do they? And don't say "Father did" like you always do.' Instead of replying with a sharp scolding like Neh-Nii-Kah usually did, Jacci heard her sibling sigh before turning with a sad smile._

_"Jacci, you're going to learn, sooner rather than later, that nobody in the household is NORMAL. You're probably the most normal out of all of us." Jacci blinked up at Neh-Nii-Kah for a moment, eyes round as she stared up at the unusual look on her caretaker's face, "Yes, not even I am completely normal."_

_Jacci frowned, then looked away again, not looking up at the elder until she felt something being tied around her head._

_"If you're really that concerned about the eye, it can be easily covered up." Neh-Nii-Kah said, gently tightening the knot on the scarf that ran under her hair, "But I'd really prefer that you WEREN'T ashamed of it the way you are." Jacci blinked for a moment, frowning, before she huffed a little._

_'I'm not ashamed.' Jacci protested, but Neh-Nii-Kah obviously didn't believe her. In all fairness, Jacci was being nowhere near honest, but since everyone expected her to be a certain way, it only made sense that she acted this way. After all, if somebody disapproved of the way she acted, she wasn't going to invite more of the disapproval._

_Neh-Nii-Kah sighed, slowly._

_"Someday soon, Jacci... Perhaps you will be able to understand..."_

_Jacci still didn't look up. She didn't want to see the look of disappointment on her sibling's face._

* * *

"Jacci!" Ben shouted, struggling a bit against his mother's grip, even as she held firm. Jacci's feet were just barely touching the ground, even as she was held up by her long hair by that man that Ben didn't recognize. Jacci's hands weakly tried to bat his grip off of her, but she couldn't lift her arms past the necessary point to touch her forehead and her hands were still shaking so badly that even if she could reach, she wouldn't be able to really do anything. Her arms and legs were bruised even worse than before, one sleeve of her dress clean ripped off and skirts shredded enough that Ben could see spots of red on the white leggings under them. 

Of course, Ben realized he and his parents weren't in much better shape- sometime during their fight with the bugs, his mother had gotten any number of bruises and cuts, including a nasty gash all down her arm that was bandaged up, but still bleeding heavily, and Ben could see that his father had clearly used too much energy with a strange Force power or something of the like, because he was having a hell of a time standing upright. In fact, he wasn't really standing, so much as leaning heavily against the wall and just barely holding the Twi'lek woman as she seemed to rouse from unconsciousness.

It was a long moment before Ben heard his mother speak, her grip on his arm tightening.

"Welk, you wouldn't DARE..."

The man with a grip on Jacci moved the lightsaber away from her throat, but instead reached down and pulled a small, black bag, similar to the case omninoculars came in, except narrower, from under his cloak.

"Perhaps I wouldn't dirty my own hands... But this little one came quite well armed. Perhaps I wouldn't even need to bother." The man Ben's mother had called Welk tightened his clutch on Jacci's hair, giving her a little shake, even as the pouch opened and Ben saw Jacci's arm come up and draw out a long, diamond shaped knife by a circular loop on it's end. Her arm was shaking, and Ben could feel his mother's hands twitching before they tightened on his arms, painfully.

"You would..." His father's voice sounded tired, but understanding in a kind of shock. Ben looked between his father and Jacci as best he could in his restrained position.

"What's going on? Dad, Mom, what's this guy doing?" Ben asked, his voice sounding too loud and out of place as it echoed off the walls of the cavern. Welk sneered, but Ben didn't know if it was at Ben's seeming stupidity or at his father's question.

"You saw how fully Alema Rar could control your own son- and she isn't even yet aware of how to use them properly as Joiners of this Nest. I could make this girl slit her throat and cut her spinal chord, or force her to cut herself into tiny pieces, from her toes up until she finally died. Now put down your saber, release Alema Rar, and surrender. Both of you."

Ben's eyes went wider and rounder than he ever thought possible. It was true, he could see- Jacci was holding the little knife with the blade pointed towards her own face, even though her arms shook. He could hear her breathing growing ragged and short, before a noise close to a squeak came from her direction- she couldn't speak or make noise, but her breath was hitching and squeaking as tears ran dribbled down from her eyes and clung to the edges of her jaw and the tip of her chin, occasionally mixing with the mucus running from her nose. Welk shook her again and Ben saw the line trailing from her nose go red as her nostrils started to bleed.

"I said now." Ben heard his mother drop her saber, then Ben saw the glimmer of some kind of crystal pop out and tumble away. There was a dull thud as Ben looked to the side and saw the rousing Alema Rar stumble back to her feet as his father released her. There was a look of dull resignation, but determination on his father's face, but utter confusion- Ben knew his father was trying to think of a plan or figure out some way out of this, but was utterly stumped as to what to do.

Before anybody could move further, Alema Rar was back on her feet and had kicked his father squarely in the chest, right under his ribcage. Ben saw his father cough and spit out blood before Alema Rar's leg sent him spinning into another wall four meters away.

Apparently, she had recovered quicker than anyone expected.

Then, Ben felt a tug inside his head- different from before, which he realized, in hindsight, had been Alema Rar putting ideas into his head and then making him act on them. Instead of insinuating, convincing, subtle tones, Ben felt as though something was forcing it's way into his brain, injecting commands and thoughts completely not his own into his mind.

_Kill your mother- kill the murderer._

Ben's legs moved before he even knew what was happening. His foot smashed into her knee, forcing her to drop him before his father's lightsaber was in his hand again and he charged at her, completely unable to control his own limbs.

"MOM! DUCK!" Ben shouted. His mother didn't need to be told twice and just barely made it out of the way as Ben came down with his father's blade, but his feet were moving in a way that Ben wasn't even sure he'd been capable of, quickly stepping around in a circle as he brought the blade back, then spun in the exact opposite direction as his mother moved to block it. Ben was crying, and he knew it- he just couldn't control his own body, but at the same time, he knew what he was doing and couldn't stop it.

Even as his mother moved away from the lightsaber blade, Ben's legs and other arm were moving, throwing punches and kicks, before Ben saw something else coming up behind her.

"BEHIND YOU!" Ben's mother caught Alema Rar's arm and there was a sickening crack as Ben heard her break it, but there was nothing to stop Ben as he brought his father's lightsaber down. Oh, his mother dodged, but not quickly enough.

"MOM!" Ben heard someone scream, but it couldn't have possibly been his voice that made such a shrill noise. His mother stumbled backwards, one hand over her face where the very tip of Ben's father's lightsaber had slashed over her eye. Alema Rar was back on her feet, one arm dangling uselessly as it was twisted at the elbow.

And then Ben felt it.

_"It's my fault again." _Ben couldn't look around, but he knew who it was coming from enough that he didn't need to. He could hear the choked noise of Jacci's ragged breath turning into muffled sobs, even as he could feel something else from this new bond they had- Ben had mostly guessed by now that this is what it meant to be Joiners and how it made sense after Uncle Han's reaction to knowing Jaina was Joiners along with that other Jedi she liked- but something other than that sense he'd just felt...

_"It's always me... being protected..."_

_For a second, Ben didn't know where he was- he could have sworn that he'd just been standing over his mother with his father's lightsaber in hand, but he found himself somewhere completely different now... back in that same place that he'd seen in that dream once, when Jacci and the Countess had been..._

_Wait..._

_And there Jacci was, again- smaller this time, still with white hair down to her shoulders, curled like Ben had always seen it, clinging to the long skirt-pants of the Countess, whom was pushing her sister on the back, trying to make her let go and stand in front of her._

_There were other children, too, all gathered around a second person and staring at Jacci like one tends to stare at a scab that just won't heal. So, this was probably something like the first day of school._

_Ben could definitely relate._

_"Everyone, this is Jacci- she's going to be joining us from now on, so be nice to her, okay?" The other person was saying- for some reason, Ben couldn't see any clear features of the adult, nor did their voice sound very distinctive, but they were obviously the teacher._

_Then, the scene shifted, showing an older- but still younger than Ben knew- version of Jacci playing alone on an empty square of grass with a ball, before she finally tripped and fell flat on her face. Two other children appeared, mostly watching their classmate with a mixture of disgust and mean pleasure._

_"Should we take her ball? Gaki said we could play with her and her team if we got one." One asked the other, in a tone that was all too familiar that made Ben's blood boil._

_"What? No way! We'll get her germs on us, you heard Sensei- she's sick." Said the other, "Besides, she's THAT person's sister. My mom'd be mad if she knew I was being mean to her."_

_They disappeared, and the scene shifted to what had obviously been the end of that day, again with the Countess kneeling and scooping her sister up, gently, as Jacci rubbed her eyes._

_"Maybe you should stay in at recess from now on- besides, you're allergic to a lot of the plants outside, anyway. I'll talk to the teacher to see if she can do something about the other girls' bullying." Jacci just buried her face in the Countess shoulder as they turned and began to walk away._

_Yet again, a new scene came up, a Jacci even closer to how Ben recognized her, running through a street, chasing an animal that hopped, before she tripped, yet again. From nowhere behind her, a cart on wheels came rattling along the street, practically as though it were aiming for Jacci directly. She got back to her feet and continued to chase the animal, before the Countess appeared again and had scooped Jacci clear out of the way of the cart as it rattled past._

_And then, again, so many different scenes, each with Jacci aging just a little more, yet another mishap, accident, or something else of the sort, and always with the Countess, or at least someone, coming along to protect her, just at the right moment._

_On one hand, Ben was starting to see where the Countess' sister complex came from, but on the other, he could still see how each little piece kept adding up inside Jacci's head, even to the point that she might be edgy enough around strangers to bite them._

And then, he was back in his own head, still aware of his surroundings- it was as though time had stood still the moment that Jacci had drawn him into her memories, accidentally or otherwise, and now he was right back where he had been just a second ago.

But he still could hear Jacci's thoughts, even saw a few glimpses of images.

_"No matter what... I've never been strong enough... to take care of myself..."_

Then, of course, there was the other voice in Ben's head, telling him to kill his mother, and then he was hearing the voice that Welk was projecting into Jacci's head, telling her to cut her own throat... it was all starting to make Ben's head seriously ache.

* * *

'It's always been me... just being protected...' Jacci stared down at the kunai in her hands, arms shaking with aches and pains as the hair on her head was yanked. She felt sick and weak, but it wasn't just that- she KNEW she was weak, not in body, but inside. Always being so sick she couldn't do anything for herself, always being so fragile she couldn't play or study like all the healthy girls training to be nins around her, always being so weak...

...That she couldn't help anyone.

'**Do it. Slit your throat for them to see.**' The voice pressed on in her head, even as Jacci's hands continued to shake- they were moving, quite steadily toward her throat, just not quick enough, as though her brain was moving faster than the entire world put together.

'That was why I wanted to be pretty and cute...' Jacci could see her reflection on the side of the kunai that faced her and could see she was anything BUT pretty and cute- her face was dirty and bruised, eyes watering and tears reddening her cheeks and taking all the curl out of her bangs, nose runny and bleeding, and the most pitiful expression she'd ever seen on anyone's face.

'Because, even if I was too weak to be a real nin... at least I could do something... be easy to look at... and instead of having such a nasty personality... be someone agreeable and polite and behaved... someone who the other girls could have been friends with without being rivals for a position or always fighting...'

**'Do it- do it now!'**

Except nobody had wanted to be friends with a vain little girl who was just playing dress-up in her elder sibling's nin clothes. So Jacci had stayed behind that glass wall, sitting up in that house with manners and pretty clothes and a cute face and all these indoor skills that weren't really useful. So she could cook and clean and play music and make pretty doll clothes from paper- that's what the men were supposed to do, so why care about this strange, sick little girl?

Someone had.

_"Ben. My name is Ben Skywalker... You want me to accompany you for the rest of the carnival?"_

Somebody had held her hand, instead of pulling away. Someone had smiled at her, instead of looking away. There had been someone who had understood her words when she spoke with her hands, someone who she could actually talk to with her fingers and who could talk back to her.

'That was...' Jacci's hands tightened on her kunai, the sounds of a fight coming closer than they'd been before- every thud on the ground, every slice of skin being cut open, every splash of blood being shed... she'd heard them so many times before, during practice drills that she'd never been allowed to take part in on Neh-Nii-Kah's orders. The smell of the fight was tainted, though- tainted with hatred and bitterness and anger, instead of the determination and will to win that had permeated the smell of the practice battles between her classmates.

This is what the senseis had meant when they said real fights were different from practice sparring.

_"I think you look cute anyway- it can't be much worse than this."_

'Yes, that person was...'

**'DO IT!'**

"Jacci... Don't...!"

_"Because... when you were getting sick, I thought it had been something I'D done, so I didn't know what to do... I didn't know what was wrong, and I didn't know what I could do to help, and when Dad and Mom didn't know either, I started wondering if it had been my fault that you'd gotten sick... I thought you'd be mad at me..."_

Everything was still moving so slowly, except for inside her own head- the other voice telling her to kill herself, the Master Skywalker that was always shouting fighting with the woman with blue skin, Ben shouting at her to stop what she was doing- all seeming to be so unimportant at the moment, but would regain their importance at any moment...

**'WHOEVER YOU ARE TELLING ME TO OFF MYSELF, YOU BETTER GET OUT OF MY HEAD RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE GONNA SEE HELL!'** And then, the other voice was gone, abruptly as though it's owner had been kicked in the head. Jacci could feel it's hold on her sway, just enough that her arms moved on her command. She knew what she was going to do.

"JACCI!"

_"She's my best friend! Actually, she's my ONLY friend..."_

'Ben... you were my first friend, too...' Jacci could feel a smile on her face- she wasn't even sure why it was now that she was smiling, but there was something... something euphoric in what she was about to do.

"_...Tell you what: I'll let you grow your hair out, and when you know you're ready, cut it. When you know that you've reached your goal, I want you to cut your hair as short as you can. __Understood?"_

It was stupid, really...

_'...Well, yes, but...'_

To anyone else, if she'd tried to explain, they wouldn't have understood. Jacci knew that now, but somehow, she REALLY didn't care.

"_Promise me."_

She knew what she was doing. And she knew why, too.

_'Neh-Nii-Kah...'_

'And you've always protected me... because you cared as a real friend...'

"_Promise me, little sister."_

Jacci raised her kunai.

_'...I promise, Neh-Nii-Kah...'_

And swiftly sliced through her hair and headscarf in one quick stroke, leaving her head bare and weightless as it hadn't been since she couldn't remember when.

"Wha-?"

"Jacci?"

'Now... I'LL protect YOU.'

* * *

Luke still wasn't sure what had happened when Alema Rar had kicked him- she'd probably gotten him right in the solar plexus for him to cough blood like that- but he had been a Jedi long enough to know that, sometimes, you had to play dead to live. And it had bought him enough time to heal a little bit- sure, the healing trance wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, and undid some damage, enough that he could get back up and help Mara out- trying to take on both Alema Rar and Welk at the same time was not something even he would try.

Luke got to his feet, just in time to see Welk go flying through the air and hit the wall before them. The impact was a loud crash and pieces of rock went flying in every direction, even as more Gorog began swarming into the cove, crawling over the walls and pouncing down to the floor to make room on the walls for more.

There was no way that he and Mara could deal with all of these Gorog AND Alema Rar and Welk at the same time.

Before any of the Gorog could come any closer to attack, Luke saw two diamond-shaped daggers go flying through the air, piercing two of them straight on in the head. A second before it happened, Luke felt the Force ripple and pulled Mara, Ben, and, much to his reluctance, Alema Rar down as the two hit Killiks exploded. The explosion alone set off a chain reaction and even more of the Gorog got caught up in the boom as something came skidding to a halt in front of them.

Luke glanced up quickly. It was Jacci, but instead of doubled over or even on her knees, she was in an offensive stance, with another one of those diamond-shaped daggers in her hand.

"Did I miss something?" Luke asked, more than a little bewildered as he got to his feet and Mara pulled out a hold-out blaster from a hidden pocket on her boot.

"You and me both, Farmboy- trust me, I have no clue what just happened." Mara said in a low voice, beginning to shoot anything that moved too close, before her voice returned to normal, "Ben, give your father his lightsaber back."

At least Ben didn't argue, even if it only seemed to alert Alema Rar that she was standing neck to neck with the very people she'd meant to be killing. Her lightsaber ignited again, but Luke blocked it, pushing her back and away from Ben and Mara, striking back in successive strokes.

Alema Rar smirked, then darted around behind him. Luke didn't have time to turn, so swiveled at the waist, only to remember he hadn't healed himself completely and that bending like that was a very BAD idea. Alema Rar took full advantage of this by smashing the butt of her lightsaber into his side, then taking off at a run. Luke looked around for what she was running at, only to see that it was clearly the white-haired sister of the CMC Alema Rar was after.

Luke was on his feet and chasing her in an instant, but Alema Rar reached her target, running right through the little girl with her lightsaber. Luke heard Ben scream, raised his own lightsaber, prepared for a charge...

And was every bit as surprised as Alema Rar was when there was a loud BAM and instead of a Human corpse, there lay the remains of a Gorog that had just exploded after having a lightsaber shoved through it's body.

"What in the...?" Alema Rar managed to get out, before Welk landed next to her. Luke readied his saber, but he could tell that neither of the Dark Jedi were quite concerned with his presence.

Jacci came out of the wall of Killiks again, charging at Welk this time with a look in her eyes that Luke was not sure he would ever see in a nine-year-old girl- it was an intense, penetrating glare, one of great concentration, as though she were focusing the aiming scope on a blaster, before she threw one more of the knives. Welk held up a hand and sent the blade back at it's sender, but Jacci stopped abruptly and disappeared, another Killik taking her place with another loud explosion.

This time, as the little one came charging out at the two dark Jedi, from the side this time, Alema Rar moved to attack, but Luke blocked her lightsaber. He could see her annoyance at being forced to change focus on her enemy, even as Alema Rar brought up her own saber and began to slash at him with erratic, unpredictable strokes. Luke blocked them, reaction time still not quite back up to par enough to attack without being hit, but drawing her away from Welk.

"I am your opponent- don't be distracted." He warned her, frowning as Alema Rar snarled something unintelligible. On the other side of the cavern, Mara was blasting apart Killiks left and right while simultaneously keeping Ben firmly undercover- she still had yet to retrieve and reassemble the lightsaber she'd surrendered, but a combination of her hold-out blaster and her natural hand-to-hand combat skills more than made up for it.

Ben had taken to picking up the discarded knives that Jacci hadn't retrieved from throwing at the Gorog and was somewhat clumsily defending himself, occasionally taking off a piece of mandible or leg or antenna of a Gorog that got too close, but for the most part just herding the attackers back. Welk was still busy with the circling Jacci, who kept disappearing and leaving Gorog in her place, in some way or another that nobody except she seemed understand how she was doing it.

Luke remained in defensive stance against Alema Rar, carefully working around her in a circle, looking and waiting for an opening that he could at least disarm her. It came when she moved to attack, then changed direction at the last moment, backing up, then coming in again in a series of fake-outs that Luke couldn't predict. Instead of Luke attacking, Ben had apparently seen his father's difficulty, taken careful aim, and thrown one of Jacci's discarded knives. Alema Rar had seen it coming and quickly spun to knock it away, but it gave Luke the opening to slice her lightsaber in half and disarm her, quickly and efficiently.

It was sometime during this period of time that Welk had finally figured out the pattern Jacci was using in her attack and retreat method, sending her own knives back at her as she attacked from above and quickly looking around to see where her new attack position was.

"Huh?" Welk muttered, suddenly, as he felt a drop of something hot and metallic in smell drip onto his face before he looked up, face to face with Jacci, whom had not replaced herself with a Killik this time. Her kunai were still stuck into her arms, leaving freely bleeding wounds, except for one which she had pulled out to attack with. On instinct, Welk threw up an arm to protect his face, only to shake it as Jacci sunk, not her kunai, but her teeth into his right arm's wrist, "YOU LITTLE BRAT! LET GO OF MY ARM!"

Ben's head snapped around enough to see that Welk had abandoned his lightsaber in favor of punching Jacci all over the face, trying to force her to release his wrist from her teeth. More Gorog were swarming into the cavern, even faster than Ben and his mother could push them back, and Alema Rar was proving to be far from helpless without her lightsaber, even going so far that she was beginning to use a number of rather underhanded Force tricks on his father, whom still wasn't blocking them for some reason.

"Farmboy, any ideas?" Ben heard his mother call over the noise.

"Working on it." His father called back, seeing as 'it' was apparently Alema Rar.

Overall, as far as rescues went, this was one of the worse ones Luke and Mara had carried out.

The sound of a blaster firing cut through the air. Welk screamed in pain as his left hand was blasted clean off and Jacci was thrown at least a meter away as she fell down to the floor.

"Hey, there's a word for guys like you who beat up on little girls like that- you're called 'Bullies'." An all-too familiar voice called over the din, as Luke looked over his shoulder. Han was holding a smoking blaster with Leia, Saba, and, oh yes, the CMC and her butler behind him, all crowding into the cavern.

"Han!"

"Sorry we're late kid- there was a welcome party at the door." Han flashed a quick, crooked grin, continuing to blast at the Gorog, except it was proving to be quite unnecessary- the Killiks were beginning to retreat in a fashion that Luke could have sworn was almost in panic. Almost as soon as they had flooded the room, all the Gorog disappeared back into their own little holes and crevasses along the walls. Luke certainly wasn't going to complain, but he had to wonder why, and now of all times? They couldn't have been intimidated by the number of the rescue party, not when they practically outnumbered all of them, easily fifty-to-one...

Perhaps they had been commanded to retreat... no, Welk was looking incredibly surprised, not to mention angry that all of his reinforcements were disappearing. He couldn't have ordered them, and would have known if someone else had given the order, whoever or wherever they were... something else was afoot here.

"Bout time, too- I was running out of charges." Mara said, irritably, but she was smirking with relief that back-up had come at the right time.

Over in the corner, Welk was scowling at Han, cuts all over his face, including a large gash on his forehead that Jacci must have given him sometime when she was attacking, and his left hand missing. More than that, he was quite obviously annoyed that he was suddenly facing them alone. Alema Rar didn't seem to particularly care that she was outnumbered, matched for wits, and essentially screwed in terms of a physical fight- she was still prowling around, scowling and baring her teeth at the reinforcements.

Han had wasted no time going to cover Luke, blaster still in hand as he kept his eye firmly on Alema Rar and yanked Luke to his feet. With some support to lean on, Luke realized exactly how much damage he'd taken during the fight- part of it was that he hadn't fully healed from the blow to his diaphragm, but it was entirely possible the initial blow had done more damage than Luke had realized at the time, enough that half a healing trance would be worse than none. Then, there was the whole time he had engaged Alema Rar in the duel, all the while with her using some very nasty Force powers against him, or possibly Welk using Alema Rar to do those same things, since Luke didn't doubt either of them as possible.

And let's not forget that this whole time, before even getting close enough to the moon, Luke had been using a great deal of energy and concentration on FINDING Ben in the first place, then even more of it holding off the Gorog as they entered the tunnels. All in the course of a few hours, this was not something taken lightly.

Saba and Leia were over next to Mara and Ben, the Barabel standing in defensive position over the two while Leia did her best to treat Mara's more severe injuries with the small medical pack in one of her bigger pockets. Most of Mara's wounds were external, but still serious, especially the gash across her face that Ben had given her. Luke still wasn't sure if Mara's eye had been damaged or if it was just the eyelid, and given that Leia had long become accustomed to gruesome injuries, he doubted she would give him any cues. Ben was still mostly unhurt- a bit dirty and bruised and battered, but still intact and mostly badly shaken.

As far as Luke could see, the CMC's sister had taken more damage than any of them, and the Countess' butler had quite quickly taken propriety of that situation. Welk was still spitting some nasty invectives, but thus far was still not composed enough to think of picking up his lightsaber again.

Alema Rar however, seemed to be more than ready for what she was about to do, even if whatever she was planning was obviously a very poor choice.

"You forget, Captain Solo, that we are more in number and strength than any of you- we will not let you get out of here, and we know all of your secrets now, even ones you don't want each other to know..." Alema Rar sneered, her eyes darting between Luke and Mara, before she glanced over at the little one in Gornash's arms, "Secrets we know you would be interested in knowing."

Mara looked singularly unimpressed.

"Farmboy, you should have killed her when you had the chance- I'm sick of hearing her voice." Mara said, but in a conversational tone enough that Luke knew she was simply trying not to show how much stress she was feeling right now. Luke silently agreed with her, until the Countess spoke up.

"Madame, there's no need to be so crude." She said, feigning innocent surprise. Mara's irritation was not masked this time.

"I really don't need to hear YOU telling me about being crude." Mara muttered, scowling, even though the CMC remained impassive to her hostility.

"No, I misspoke- I meant you needn't encourage the Master Skywalker to soil his own hands. Selle Alem'arar will be dead in a few minutes, regardless."

There was a sudden, but very effective pause. Everyone in the room (except for Gornash, whom Luke had come to understand was never surprised by anything his employer said, as he was usually her partner in crime with whatever evil she foretold) was visibly and audibly surprised at this proclamation- even the very room seemed to hold it's breath, before Alema Rar let out a bark that did not suit Twi'lek vocal chords.

"Hah! We know how Excellency works- we've seen her before. Your Excellency believes that we will be scared by your words, but you have no real proof. How can you be so sure, unless you think you will kill us, yourself?" Alema Rar was sneering, but Luke could see Welk remaining serious, working through the statement logically, trying to understand. The Countess' lip curled.

"Nonsense- that would get blood on my suit." She replied with a tone that clearly conveyed the amount of disdain she held for Alema Rar by this point, "In any case, that's simply not my style of doing things." Alema Rar's expression was growing defiant again, remained haughty, as though she'd won a difficult debate contest and was showing off her prize to the coach of the losing team.

"Before we continue this discussion, Selle Alem'arar..." The Countess continued, and Luke could see how her polite tone and the use of Alema Rar's name in such a fashion was irritating the Twi'lek, "Could I please have Chlora back?" Alema Rar blinked, "The chloroform from my collection, which you stole."

Alema Rar's sneer returned as she retrieved the vial, dangling it in her fingers, even as it almost slipped out from the sweat and grime that had accumulated on Alema Rar's fingertips. The Countess' eyes narrowed.

"Yes, we stole this from your collection, Your Excellency- that collection you call your 'Little Ones' and treat as though they were your children, but you still are so careless to leave the cabinet unlocked."

The Countess' lip was curling again.

"Yes- I left it unlocked." She agreed, amiably, but the words said more than enough. Luke frowned at the Countess, as she continued holding her hand out, as though expecting Alema Rar to return it. Much to everyone's surprise, she did- to be precise, Alema Rar flung the bottle back at the Countess, who caught it in a graceful move. She was still smiling that eerie smile of hers, eyes half lidded and gleaming like gray steel, "And you didn't even have the sense to wear gloves as you went poking around in the cupboard. Honestly, that's simply sloppy work." Luke could see Han frowning too, before Luke noticed the Countess was still wearing those impeccable black silk gloves.

"And? What difference does it make? We still got that poison- and it's all gone, too, if that would break your heart." Alema Rar was beginning to look distinctly unpleasant as she scowled at the Countess, whom continued to smile, haughtily.

"Silly girl- a good parent makes sure that their children are protected, no matter the circumstances. Madame and Mon Skywalker have done their best, in their opinions, to care for their son, and the method I used to be sure my own sister is cared for, even when separated from a protector has just cost your accomplice his hand. Did you not deduce I had some way of being sure my own little ones were not also as well armed?" The Countess explained with the air of a patient teacher explaining to a particularly dim-witted pupil that one and one added together to be two, "Of course, you handled the bottle so much that it's all gone now, but before you touched it, this bottle's surface was coated with at least 20 milligrams of aconite."

Aconite... Luke caught a sense of vague recognition from Han, but as far as Luke could tell, he didn't understand what it meant, either. Alema Rar apparently didn't understand either, but unlike being confused, she became angry and grabbed particularly sharp piece of rock as she charged. Luke heard Han grunt before his blaster went off again and Alema Rar's right arm went flying, severed at the elbow.

"Oh damn..." Han muttered, but Luke could tell that, instead of meaning 'I didn't mean to actually shoot her', it was more a curse that meant 'I was aiming for her head'. The CMC held up a hand, mildly waving in their direction.

"Please, Captain Solo, that's not necessary." Han's blaster lowered, even as he continued to scowl and Alema Rar glared at the Countess, awaiting an explanation, "It's a neurotoxin- one that attacks the brain and destroys the nervous system. If the dosage is small enough, it's used by doctors to alleviate pain as it suppresses the receptors in the brain that control sensation. Any larger, however, and it could stop the brain from functioning, sometimes causing a coma, and one or two milligrams is sufficient to shutdown the nervous system entirely."

Luke heard Saba sissing with amusement, though what she found so amusing, he didn't understand. He could tell Mara and Leia were confused, but also somewhat interested in this topic, but, just like Han, himself, and Alema Rar, waiting for the point to come.

"The special property of Aconite is that it can be absorbed through the skin. In Human biology, the poison goes up the arm and effects the brain as it travels through the bloodstream... In Human biology..." The Countess paused, letting the words sink in as Luke started to understand what she was getting at, before she continued, voice still that deadly soft, "But... since Twi'lek biology is _vastly_ different..." The Countess' eyes narrowed as she stared, uncaring, into Alema Rar's, whose pupils had dilated and Luke could see a definite change in the color of her face- a strange combination of going pale and yet, blood gathering in spots for far too long, "I wonder how it will effect _you_..."

The words left a very pregnant pause as Luke saw the expression on Alema Rar's face change- it was very quickly dissipating from a haughty smirk and defiant glare as her eyes widened even more than Luke had thought possible. He could see the corners of her eyes going red and bloodshot, even as her lower lip and chin shook. The blotches of color were becoming more pronounced in her face before Alema Rar shrieked and launched herself forward, one good arm going out as though to grab and strangle the Countess, whom remained impassive as she stood.

Alema Rar never even got close enough to touch the CMC- even as she was just within arms reach, the color in Alema Rar's face and the spots which had appeared on her lekku that Luke hadn't even noticed became more pronounced than ever, before the veins in her face and lekku bulged, throbbed, and finally exploded, spurts of blood exploding from around her eyes and forehead and the top of her head that from which her head-tails extended.

"EEYAAAAHHHH!"

Everyone recoiled from the screech that issued from Alema Rar's throat, except the Countess, who continued to watch with out batting an eyelash as Alema Rar's veins exploded before the Twi'lek dropped to the floor. She didn't even twitch, her face still frozen in that horrified expression, all previous beauty that hadn't been blemished by her twisted hate and anger completely gone from her face.

Luke couldn't do anything except stare at the gruesome sight, before his eyes shifted up at the Countess. There was no apparent expression on her face- her eyes remained half-lidded and glassy, betraying not even the hint that she had a beating heart behind that marble-like face of hers, let alone one that felt any sorrow or pity. And while Luke was not feeling particularly charitable towards Alema Rar, this incredibly horrible way that she was dying was not something Luke would wish on anyone. He really had to wonder precisely what was going on inside that woman's mind that she could kill so cold-heartedly.

Though, the thought caught Luke a little off-guard, the CMC hadn't really killed Alema Rar- simply allowed her enough rope to hang herself with. Was that really killing? Or was it... something else?

Luke's moment for contemplation was cut short as Welk had moved quickly in the confusion. As soon as Alema Rar hit the ground, Welk leaped at the Countess. His twisted face was half covered in blood, his eyes wide and an insane grin over his lips as he brought his lightsaber down. Nobody had even heard him move, let alone seen him jump, until he was almost there. Even the CMC herself was visibly startled, only having a chance to flinch before the impact.

It never came, but Luke saw a blur as the Countess found her arms full of her younger sister with the figure of Gornash blocking the lightsaber, one hand firmly restraining Welk by his shoulder, but the other wrapped around the spot on Welk's lightsaber where the hilt became the blade. There was the smell of burning flesh in the air as Luke saw half of the butler's hand rapidly turning black.

"GORNASH!" Luke didn't know who's voice that was in it's indistinguishable pierce, nor did he know who would react in such a fashion, but he did recognize the voice that practically cut across it as Han's as he shouted something that sounded rather like a Correllian invective.

Han's draw was quick. Leia's was quicker. Before Han had finished shouting, Welk's body was on the ground, his other arm separated at the shoulder and his head in pieces over the ground, leaving only the lower half of a face and a neck.

There was a pause as everyone regained their breath, before Ben offered the first words, which seemed to speak for everyone's sentiment at that moment.

"...Ew..." The syllable echoed in the room, but seemed to clear the air, awakening them all from the shocked stillness they'd just felt. Luke shakily shifted his feet, testing how well his legs would support his own weight, before he finally decided he could stand on his own. In any case, the strange impression that was tingling on the edge of his senses and the noises coming down the tunnel leading to the room told him he would have to.

"Oh hell..." He muttered, lowly enough that he was fairly sure nobody else had heard him.

"I forgot we still had the rest of the nest to deal with..." Han agreed, reloading his blaster with a grim expression as Saba supported Mara- unable to use one eye, her balance must have been thrown off, was all Luke could presume, "And they probably ain't letting us out the way we came in."

The noise, however, had begun to turn into a series of explosions and other sounds that certainly did not sound like they were coming any closer- in fact, they almost sounded like they were moving away, if anything else... And Luke could have sworn that the sound was similar to how the Gorog had exploded whenever one of Jacci's daggers had gone through their heads or Mara had shot one of them. Because of this previous information, Luke could only conclude that someone else was killing off a great number of Gorog, and it was nobody in THEIR party doing it...

"This one smells someone very familiar..." Saba sissed with amusement as her tongue flickered out and the group cautiously made it's way out of the room, creeping along the wall of the tunnel. Whom it was that Saba had smelled became apparent enough, as Luke saw a number of familiar lightsabers swiping at the numerous, swarming Gorog. The Joiner Jedi moved in perfect synchronization, teamwork effortless and flawless as though they were all of the same mind- which, technically, they were, Luke supposed. But a new pair of hands was also at work, which Luke had never thought he would see again wielding a lightsaber.

It was almost amusing, for how much Raynar Thul had improved and grown in his Force strength, he was still as miserable as ever with his blade work. He seemed to have improved in his theory and knowledge of handling skills, but physically speaking, Raynar was utterly useless. Since lightsaber fighting was a skill that required muscle memory and conditioning as well as study of theory and tactics, Raynar was able to plot moves effectively, but unable to carry them out with the same efficiency. Regardless, it was quite evident that the Joiner Jedi were all united against their opponent.

It was long after the Gorog began to disperse- whether because the hive mentality had taken over and begun to insist that destroying the Unu would only destroy the Gorog, or because of some other reason, nobody could tell- that Raynar stood over the bodies of Welk and Alema Rar with a kind of look in his eyes that seemed to make up for a lack of expression on his face.

"We... we do not understand how this is possible... we are sure that Welk and Lomi Plo died in the crash, how could they be still..." Alive was not the word, since Welk was obviously no longer among the living, and nobody could tell if Lomi Plo was alive or dead.

"Dark Jedi have always had powers different from the Jedi, Raynar- they could very well have tampered with your memories to change what you saw. Then, as you were absorbed into the Unu Nest, the memories that were erased or modified affected the mind of the Hive." Luke offered, frowning at Welk's corpse- even as much as the explanation he'd just offered made sense, there was still something that bothered him, even if he couldn't quite put is finger on what it was.

"They... could have..." Raynar agreed, slowly, but still looking confused- though it was more as though he was ashamed of himself for being so easily manipulated.

"But how did you survive long enough to be absorbed into the Colony, I wonder..." Put in the CMC, even as she rose from the wreckage of Gorog bodies where she'd been gathering samples to study, "It's not in the nature of Hive-minded creatures to care for the sick and dying of even their own kind, let alone other species. Judging from your appearance now, you must have suffered some very severe injuries in the crash- ones that, if left untreated, do not permit one to live under normal circumstances. The only way you could have lived for any time afterwards would be if your injuries had been treated."

"What are you getting at?" Luke asked, suspiciously. Something about the Countess just seemed off to him, from her ridiculous amount of knowledge on the most inane subjects to her excessive ability to always have an answer on hand to any question asked of her. Under different circumstances, it might have been useful, but now, it was simply annoying- Luke personally just wanted this whole mess to be over with so they could leave.

"Essentially, for the person who was Raynar Thul to survive long enough to become UnuThul, that means the Yoggoy would have had to care for him. Why would the Yoggoy do something that is so against their nature? Normally, the Killiks simply take bodies, wait for them to die, and then feed the flesh of the corpse to their larvae. But, during the time they were waiting for Raynar Thul to die, they must have kept him among themselves enough that he would have changed to becoming a Joiner..." The Countess explained. Thinking through it logically, the way she was, Luke probably would have realized that if left to think about it on his own, so it was becoming thoroughly irritating at what a know-it-all this woman was being.

"Yes, fascinating- what does it have to do with THIS?" Luke asked, though half of his irritation was masked by the way he muttered the words. The Countess either didn't notice or care.

"UnuThul, what exactly happened with the Yoggoy that led to your creation?" She asked, turning to Raynar. He blinked at her, before explaining, slowly.

"We brought Raynar Thul to our nest, just as you said. He would have been fed to our larvae, except he became one with us. Before he became one of us, all that mattered was the nest. But Yoggoy is smart- Yoggoy learned the value of the individual. We learned to tend to our sick instead of abandoning them. We learned compassion for the being instead of the nest." Raynar explained, even as Luke and the others listened with half an ear- they'd mostly heard him tell this before- until the Countess gave a disappointed sigh.

"You learned to value what Raynar Thul had valued." The words mostly meant the same thing, but the way she said them sparked something in Luke's brain, "The ideals Raynar Thul held had suddenly become YOUR ideals. In other words, when Raynar Thul became UnuThul, the Yoggoy became UnuThul as well- instead of learning these values, you ABSORBED them."

Now, Luke could hear the distinct difference in the meaning of what the Countess was saying- learning would have been vastly different from absorbing the values. Learning held an implication of voluntary taking on of the ideas, of the learner WANTING the new lesson, of the learner actively taking part in it. Absorption... that meant the ideals had been FORCED into the Killks. In a strange way, the same way Luke had been disgusted at Ben's becoming a Joiner, he felt sorry for the Yoggoy.

"Hey Jaina, since you guys are Joiners now, does that mean you can feel it when the other people are feeling sick or get hurt?" Ben's voice butted in from the sidelines, reminding Luke to have a word with the CMC about what kinds of topics were appropriate in front of the little ones. Before the thought could go further, the Countess let out an undignified squawk that made Luke jump and turn around.

Oh, yes... they'd just been in the middle of a fight with these two... and nobody had gotten medical attention, yet.

"SICK ROOM, NOW! ALL OF YOU! Yes, Madame Skywalker, you especially! Gornash, don't you DARE try carrying Jacci- not with THAT hand! Ben, don't just stand there, get going! Get! GET!" The Countess voice was reaching that shrill pitch again that made Luke realize it had, indeed, been her that had screamed when her butler had blocked Welk. In any case, Luke saw several of the Joiner Jedi covering their ears, even pondering if he should do something similar, before something hooked itself on the back of his collar and tugged. Luke gagged for a moment before he turned and saw the Countess had used the handle of her cane to poke at him.

"You too, Master Skywalker- YOU look like you grabbed a power feed! Back to the ships, this INSTANT!"

Feeling rather foolish and childlike, Luke obeyed, discretely nudging Mara and Jaina, whom had taken it to her head to carry Ben, to walk a little faster just in case the Countess decided they weren't going fast enough and decided to use her cane and feet as methods of persuasion.

A/N: In order of importance to the plot, the backgrounds of everyone in the CMC's household will be revealed in appropriate flashback style- one, I'm trying to make them into characters you can appreciate, and two, a good deal of their pasts either have some relevance to the CMC's "Diabolical Plot of DOOM" or at least to why they're all so devoted to her. Jacci is the first to have some very specific details about her revealed. In the next chapter, keep your eyes open for something else about Jacci that will be a BIG hint about the CMC's identity.

On an unrelated note, someone recently left a review during which they said, "...you should have written the books, not all those...authors that made a complete mess out of a wonderful story" (Crystal Luna). I would like to say that I am very humbled by that, but it's probably for the best that I didn't- otherwise, we might have some weirdass rip-off of Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Godchild, and Tokyo Babylon crossover with Star Wars characters instead of what we have now. I shall, however, do my best to live up to the expectation.

And as for who the CMC is- Here's a hint that I won't be able to work into the story, but it hit me, so I might as well insert it for the truly devoted: Athng. Look up the Aurebesh alphabet and see what those letters look like. Thank you!


	18. Part II: Chapter 5

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

Chapter 5:

The sick room on the cruiser of _Madame'le'Crigan'du'Comte_ had never seen so many people at one time. Jacci was on the mattress in the corner, covered in bandages, while Mara Jade Skywalker sat across from her on a chair with a swab over her eye and her arm in a sling and Luke was recovering on the other mattress in what could have been, for all intents and purposes, a coma. Meanwhile, Gornash was in a chair, also with a bandaged hand, but kept trying to get up to go help his employer, who kept throwing large, heavy objects at his head to keep him sitting.

In all her experience, Leia had never seen a medical room so packed- though the relatively small size of this one might have had a hand in that. She was sitting in a third chair, while Ben had taken a position between the two mattresses. Both of the little ones were nodding off while the Countess moved from each patient to the next in order of the severity of their injuries- several of the younger Jedi had gotten plenty of flesh wounds in their fight with the Gorog, none of which were even remotely serious, but did not dare say a word as the Countess cleaned and bandaged all the injuries, considering she had some very sharp instruments in her hands and was in an obviously volatile mood.

Saba was the first to leave the claustrophobic atmosphere.

"This one iz hungry- she is going on a hunt." Privately, Leia wondered if she REALLY wanted to know what a "Hunt" would entail, but decided against it. As far as she knew, there were only Killiks on this planet, and asking Saba about how she was going to find a suitable prey would only lead to problems with many Unu around the ship. The Countess ignored her, still focused on the Joiner Jedi, though going through a different set of preparations. To be precise, she had put blindfolds over almost all of them, except for Tekli, who watched as the Countess prepared a syringe.

Leia said nothing, but Han put his hand on the Countess' wrist in a very bold move as she brought the needle closer to Jaina's arm.

"You mind filling us in on what the hell you think you're doin'?" He demanded, but Leia didn't pay much attention to how Han was reacting- rather, she kept her eye on the blindfolded Joiners, who hadn't even flinched, almost as though the blindfolds were not even there, or at least they could see right through them.

"Vaccination, Captain Solo. And the blindfolds are a psychological measure- not being able to see the needle coming greatly reduces tension and helps alleviate pain." The Countess replied, calmly. Leia considered it, and, after reasoning a little, understood exactly how true the words were. Han looked dubious, but Leia nudged him with her toe a little and he stood down.

Soon enough, however, it became obvious that the real intention was quite different, and both Han and Leia saw it as the Countess did. Even though the Countess didn't even touch Jaina's arm with the needle, she visibly tensed as it drew close, and as the injection came, everyone in the group flinched.

Neither Han, nor Leia said a word about it, but the CMC had a strange look in her eye, almost like triumph, but not, at the same time. At last, she broke the silence.

"All of you can feel the same sensations and see what the others see. And, not as a sending, but as though you are experiencing the sensations, yourself." She said, undoing all the blindfolds without even bothering with the other vaccinations- Leia had the sneaking suspicion that the syringe had only held a harmless salt water solution, and no real medicine. Still, the way that the CMC said it in such an accusatory tone put her on edge, especially since she could think of several, very good, reasons as to why this might be happening.

"That might be the Jedi Battle Meld- the reactions are the same because the Jedi share thoughts, so they perceive everything that their fellows do. It's used during battle when coordination and timing are needed, but there's no time before hand to formulate a plan." The Countess continued to stare at Leia, almost blankly, so she continued to talk, taking this as an invitation to explain further, "It might also be Battle Meditation, or any number of other Jedi Techniques that are used to communicate through the Force..."

The person who interrupted her was Han, much to Leia's surprise.

"That's not something you guys can do forever, though- Luke drew on his energy reserves for too long and look at HIM. And, in any case, why would they..." He gestured to the younger Jedi, "Still be DOING it? The battle's over. And why would this group, specifically, be doing it? They don't all know each other well enough that they'd prolong THAT kind of link." In other words, while Han could see Jaina and Zekk keeping a Meld connection, even after the battle, it wouldn't make sense for her to continue it with Tekli or Tesar. Or Tahiri with Jaina or Zekk. Or any of them with Alema Rar, who was already dead and hadn't seemed to be affected by their connection.

Leia paused, even as Han made some displeased noises, but the Joiners took it as a dismissal, more than a little miffed that the Countess had started to talk about them as though they hadn't even been present. Still, Leia couldn't deny that there had been some truth in her words about the fact of the matter.

"In other words, all of their minds are linked together, not by something they have control over, but more of a connection that's- GORNASH, SIT BACK DOWN, OR I'LL CUT YOUR PAY AGAIN!"

The two little ones started awake again as Gornash remained standing, but at least did not move from his spot. Leia heard Mara cough in the corner as she caught her breath, and Luke remained as motionless as ever, except for the rise and fall of his chest. Ben finally said something, in a very tired voice.

"Mr. Gornash, Jacci wants to ask if you could please just do what the Countess says- all the shouting is keeping us both awake..." There was a pause that almost seemed heavy before Gornash settled into his chair, silently agreeing. Needless to say, this did not do much to improve the CMC's mood, but she didn't say anything as she went back to treating Luke- from what Leia could tell, he just needed a healing trance in order to recover, but considering that their resident medic and hostess had just finished taking his auditory temperature and was now reacting by putting ice on Luke's forehead, there was always something that might not have been visible.

"What's wrong with Luke?" Han asked, glancing over the worn Jedi Master in a way that almost looked suspicious if Leia hadn't known Han so well.

"In order of importance, or chronologically?" The Countess asked, pleasantly. Leia couldn't hide the wince at the sound of that. Neither did Han, before Leia answered as tactfully as she could.

"Order of what should we be most worried about to least." The Countess blinked, somewhat owlishly, for a moment, before she shrugged.

"In that case, absolutely nothing." She finally said, and when Han curtly informed her that THEY would be the judge of what they would worry about, she simply replied in infuriatingly unhelpful terms, "Mostly just exhaustion from whatever he was doing. His systems have reverted more of their efforts to repairing the damaged tissues than to maintaining the normal homeostasis such as temperature, fluid retention, and respiratory rates, so his temperature will rise just a little bit, as well as some other side effects, though none of them deadly, or even close to it."

"But, if you can help regulate some of those processes FOR the body, even more effort can go to helping him heal, and he'll get better quicker and feel better when he DOES." Han summed up, even as the CMC filled a syringe with water from a jar that was labeled as pure H2O. The Countess made a neutral noise.

"Essentially- to be technical, by taking over the tasks his body normally controls, the body will realize that the processes are already being fulfilled, and the brain will stop sending as many signals to the endocrine system to control those processes, instead sending signals for the body to work on the repairs. Once the healing process is finished, or someone stops controlling the bodily processes from outside, the brain will return to functioning as normal- Think of it as a parent who also has an important job to do and a small child to care for at the same time. When a deadline comes up for an important session of Congress or..."

The Countess paused for an appropriate example, before Han's dry humor filled in,

"A war to prevent?"

"It'll do- they ask someone else to make sure their child is fed, watered, bathed, clothed, and protected, in their stead. And once the situation has come to an end, they return to care for their child as normal."

Leia and Han cast each other glances- aside from Winter on a few very, very specific occasions, they had always cared for their own children, regardless of wars, peace treaties, Senate gatherings, and forging of alliances, sometimes even going to far as to bring Jacen and Jaina and Anakin with them on missions. And even now, Luke and Mara were repeating this kind of pattern, though to a lesser extent. Leia cast her sister-in-law a look, only to see that Mara had fallen asleep in her chair, just like the little ones and Luke.

But it was an apt metaphor and they understood easily enough.

"So... you're FORCING his body to divert all it's attention on healing?" Han finally surmised with a frown that told Leia exactly how much he disapproved of this method of treatment. It made sense- Han had not been pleased to learn about the way the Killiks influenced the minds of others, even if the exact reason why was still unclear. After all, not being able to have your own will or make your own decisions was the greatest fear of all Correllians, but when your own BODY was bending to the will of someone else...

"Yes... I am forcing Master Skyalker's body to put all efforts into the healing process. Otherwise, if we have another emergency that calls for our resident Jedi Masters, he would still be vulnerable." The Countess explained, still with that infuriatingly know-it-all smile, before she added, dryly, "Besides, it would just be MY luck that an earthquake, ship malfunction, medical complication, or some other fresh hell would find its way to make all of our lives difficult at this precise moment."

Han had told Leia about the Countess' obsession with her own bad luck and how she had to be in absolute control to keep any real damage from happening. In all honesty, the Countess' obsessive-compulsive drive for information and control had let them know where Ben was, where Luke and Mara would be, that they would be flopping miserably at their attempted rescue, and what they would be facing when they got down there so they could be prepared. She couldn't feel any kind of resentment for the Countess being so concerned- if nothing else, the fact that she would personally oversee Luke's welfare was almost a personal gesture, as though this woman understood how important Leia's brother was to her.

Leia's reflective moment was broken when Han clapped a hand onto her shoulder and loudly suggested that they leave the medical expert to her work. The Countess continued to blink at them, eyes not leaving as Han more or less dragged Leia from the room.

As soon as they were safely outside the sick room and well out of hearing range of the CMC, Han pulled Leia against his chest in a one-armed hug.

"Luke's gonna be fine. And so's Mara and the kids. That woman won't let anything bad happen to them." Leia blinked at the tone of Han's voice, before realizing that he must have read either her body language or expression to have pinned her concern so well, even when she hadn't really known she was concerned about it. Leia looked up at him a little to see the old, familiar, crooked Solo grin in place on Han's lips, "It might be hard to see, but she's just as worried about them as we are, maybe even more. And that's hard to do. From what I've seen that woman do so far, she ain't the kind of person to let her promises be broken. And I get the feeling she actually gives a damn about us all. We're all gonna be okay."

Leia blinked for a few moments, before she smiled back.

"I knew there was a reason I was keeping you around all these years." She muttered, half-jokingly. Han made an almost wounded noise that she knew all too well.

"You mean besides my good looks and charm?" They started walking to avoid the embarrassing encounter of someone finding them being snuggly in the hallway.

"What good looks and charm?" She asked, "The only good looks YOU'VE got are scruffy ones."

* * *

The happy mood was thoroughly ruined when Han and Leia returned to the _Falcon_, only to find several unfamiliar dart ships surrounding it. None of the crew remained with any of their fighters, but both Leia and Han recognized the emblems on the sides all too well and quickly got onto the ship, only to find several tall, skinny, blue skinned Chiss interrogating the Jedi on-board the ship.

"Hey, if you're looking for trouble, it's BEHIND you." Han put in, brusquely. The Chiss in pilot's uniforms turned, a little startled, but then parted and let a shorter, but much more elaborately dressed Chiss that Leia automatically knew was one of the Aristocra. His expression was significantly grim, which put Leia on her guard.

It was made even worse as he spoke.

"Where is Master Skywalker? We are here to speak with him." The Aristocra asked. Han scowled.

"First tell us who you are and WHY you want to speak with Luke. Then, maybe we'll think about telling you where he is." Han snapped, irritably. The Aristocra raised half of his brow, but seemed to accept the ultimatum, because he replied, with an air of smugness.

"I am Aristocra Tswek, the representative of the Ascendancy whom was asked to bring this matter to the attention of the Galactic Alliance. I was sent here to be sure the situation was being... dealt with. From what I can see, there seems to be some... complication, perhaps? That the Ascendancy was not informed of? Or has the conflict been resolved and this is merely a sight-seeing tour?" Aristocra Tswek sent a glance out the window at the marsh-like continence of the planet with a slight sneer.

"Actually, no- we were looking into real estate for a summer home. Y'know, get away from all the hot and muggy sunshine, find some healthy rain when it gets too humid, that kind of thing." Han replied, casually, before gesturing out the window, "I was thinking about a nice, simple set-up with a porch and opening ceiling- what do you think? Too much?"

Aristocra Tswek's eyelid twitched as he restrained himself at Han's tone. Leia only kept a straight face because she was so used to Han's sense of humor, but several of the Chiss didn't seem to get the joke. At any rate, the next voice to speak was definitely Human, which only made Leia groan on the inside.

"With all due respect, Captain Solo, your sarcasm is ill-advised. The Aristocra Council has decided that if the Jedi cannot withdraw their forces relatively soon, then the Ascendancy will have the responsibility to assist them in their return to space where they are more welcome." Of course, it would be Jagged Fel's task force assigned to this mission.

"Meaning that if we don't leave, now, you're going to make us leave." Leia said, feeling incredibly short-tempered, "The Killiks are going to be leaving and settling in a new home, far away from Chiss space- you yourselves agreed to this."

Aristocra Tswek's eyes narrowed to two red slits as he grew visibly more agitated.

"The border dispute between the Chiss and the insects was not the concern of the Galactic Alliance- we asked the Jedi Order to intervene to pull out their Jedi. Nothing more." He said, stiffly, "Now, is Master Skywalker going to speak with us, or will we be forced to take more assertive action?"

"For your information, Luke's unconscious in sick bay. We had an issue with a nest here and he was hurt seriously in the process, so you can get your gear outta here- we'll leave when we're good an' ready." Han snapped. The Aristocra ignored the other half of Han's sentence, as he strode swiftly past him with two other Chiss who looked suspiciously like bodyguards, in line towards the CMC's cruiser.

With a huff of impatience, Leia took off after them, before she finally caught up with them outside the sick room on-board the slug-shaped ship.

She needn't have bothered, as was quickly evidenced. Aristocra Tswek entered the sick room without being invited. The Countess remained seated in her chair, hands in her lap but obviously monitoring one of Luke's life signs.

"I have business to discuss with the Master Skywalker, if he would kindly wake up." Aristocra Tswek seemed to be speaking more to Luke than to the Countess, even as he extended a hand to shake him awake.

This had been a serious error. The Countess' hand was quicker, shooting out and gripping Tswek's wrist so firmly that his whole arm halted in it's progress.

"Keep your filthy hands off of him." Her voice was low, but incredibly menacing in it's tone- Leia had never thought it possible, but it sounded more like a growl than any noise that Human vocal chords normally produced, but then the words she used added a significant amount of even greater threat than before to them... almost like the possessiveness of a fierce predator guarding it's territory, kill, or young, "I'm in a very foul mood today."

Tswek made a noise that would have been a growl, except he was so obviously in pain that it was distorted. Distantly, Leia wondered how strong the Countess' grip was, before she heard a distinct crunch that could not be mistaken for anything but the breaking of the Aristocra's wrist.

The bodyguard Chiss moved to pull their blaster-cannons from the holsters, but found themselves grasping at empty air where their weapons had been. Leia blinked, very startled, at the back of the CMC, whom was standing behind the two Chiss with their own guns pointed to their heads. She hadn't even seen the Countess move, and given how the Chiss were all looking around in shock and wondering where she had gone, they hadn't either.

"You three shall leave, now. And you will take those strike fighters with you. And there will be no retaliation, nor attempted blackmail, nor any other kind of action against any of this party, the Galactic Alliance, or the Killiks. The dispute is solved, and if any of you tries to bring up a conflict again, I will kill you." Again, there was that inhuman tone to the Countess' voice, except Leia could tell she was perfectly serious- not angry or hateful or even vengeful. She was stating facts and she could see to it that they were fulfilled and she knew it, too, "And the death I will chose for you will be in the form of one of my poisons- one which makes your body bloat up and your arms and legs shrivel while your flesh becomes spotted green and brown and your internal organs rot from the inside out, and then disappears from your body altogether, leaving no trace of itself and making it impossible for anyone to trace it back to me. Do I make myself clear?"

The Chiss said nothing, but there was no doubt that the CMC had made herself PERFECTLY clear.

As the Chiss swiftly and obediently left, Leia couldn't help but wonder if they weren't just the littlest bit afraid of the woman who had so simply kicked them off of their own mission. At the very least, it had to be intimidating, but it also made Leia wonder exactly how true Han's words were- did this display PROVE that the Countess wouldn't let any harm come to her patients, or did it make the statement more dubious? And, really, would Luke or Mara be comfortable being treated by this woman, or allowing Ben to be acquainted with her for so long?

Leia's pondering was interrupted as Saba strode into the room, sissing with amusement.

"This one likez you more and more."

Then again, Mara would probably be more endeared to the CMC than ever before if she knew how easily she ordered the Chiss around.

* * *

"Hey, Countess, I've been meaning to ask..." Ben had at last woken up and promptly removed from the sick room so he didn't disturb the patients resting, but the relocation was limited to the sitting lounge outside the sick room, as the Countess had deemed everyone stable and no longer in need of her attention for every second.

"Though I'll still be checking on Master Skywalker periodically to be sure his temperature hasn't gone up." She had said, but Ben hadn't really understood any of the other complications she'd listened to that and thus didn't remember any of them in detail.

"Yes, Sieur Ben?" She asked, pouring out two cups of hot water and putting two bags that smelled like chocolate and cinnamon into them. Ben supposed that, with Gornash injured, she really didn't know how to make her own drinks and was just doing something that she had the least chance of screwing up. Either way, it wasn't half bad once it had cooled enough to sip.

"...Well... it's about Jacci..." Ben looked away, somewhat ashamedly, but the Countess only encouraged him to continue, "Well... I'm not sure if this is okay or normal... but lately... we've been... kind of meshed... like, if she thinks of something, I can hear it... and she seems able to hear me... and..." Ben shyly glanced in the Countess' direction, but once he saw that she was staring at him, rather unblinkingly, Ben's head swiveled in the other direction quite quickly, face red as his hair, "What I'm saying is... I've been seeing pieces of her memory... and... well..."

"You're bothered by this?" The Countess asked. Ben shifted, uncomfortably.

"Well... it's just something... I wasn't sure if it was anything that would bother you or..." Ben's stammering came to a halt as the Countess put a hand on top of his head. He peered up at her for a moment, but the Countess had taken out one of her sweet-smelling cigars and was attempting to light it, one-handedly.

"I'm willing to write it off as the fact you and Jacci share the unique trait of empathy and that's why you two are able to communicate visions and memories to each other by touch. It's not unusual by my standards, and as such, I am not about to let such a petty thing bother me." She said even as the fat cigar almost slipped out of her teeth, "Continue."

Ben blinked up at her for a moment, before smiling a little and continuing to talk, this time with considerably less stuttering.

"Well... a few times now, when I've seen some of her memories, I've noticed you mentioning how other people would make fun of her a lot for being sick and stuff like that..." Ben began, choosing his words carefully as possible, "...But once, you asked if people were making fun of something about her eyes..." Ben paused, as the Countess stiffened, just slightly, before her eyes slid shut and she breathed in some of her cigar smoke.

"Mmm?" The Countess prompted, finally, eyes remaining shut. Ben blinked at her for a moment, feeling shy again, but continued.

"Um... does... did you mean anything about... that THIRD eye Jacci has... in the back of her head?" Ben finally asked, even as he could tell the Countess was pissed about something. However, the first reaction Ben heard was not from her, but from his Uncle's voice just around the corner.

"What?" Ben shrunk back a little bit, but recovered quickly, even as Uncle Han seemed even more agitated, "Kid, did you just say that the other kid has an eye in the BACK of her head?" Something about how his Uncle said it, almost as though Ben could hear him thinking 'Freak', but it riled up Ben's indignation enough that he sat up straight and raised his own voice.

"Yeah, but it's really COOL- see, because the big guy who was shouting a lot was doing something weird with my head, I could hear his voice inside my head, but I also kinda saw what he was seeing at the same time, so I could see it when Jacci did whatever she did. She did this really weird thing where she cut her hair and then suddenly opened her eye, and then the big guy just went flying and hit the wall and he wasn't sure what had just happened, but then she started running around and fighting back and it was REALLY cool."

Meanwhile, the Countess sat by, smoking her cigar, nonchalantly listening to the conversation with an expression that seemed less than interested. Ben guessed she was just tired, but if he'd had to listen to people complain so much, he figured he'd be kind of bored, too.

"Kid, if she's got something in the back of her HEAD like that, throwing people against walls and shit, how do you know she's not gonna hit YOU someday?" Uncle Han demanded. Ben huffed, irritably.

"She's already done that- but I was calling her a brat, so I was kind of asking for it." Ben paused, "And then she hit me for something else that I didn't get... I asked if she was going to become a big sister and she got mad..."

"She took that to mean you were calling me fat." The Countess put in, then went back to chewing on her cigar. Ben blinked at the Countess for a moment, glancing down at her stomach that couldn't have been smaller if she'd been wearing a corset, then laughing a little. Uncle Han still looked stormy, but said nothing before he stalked off.

"Why's Uncle Han so upset about it?" Ben asked, frowning in the direction his uncle had disappeared in. He didn't notice the slight smirk that twitched at the Countess' lips before she took her cigar out of her mouth and blew a smoke ring.

"Perhaps he knew a more sour-tempered person with also three eyes." She suggested, but didn't dwell on it.

"That's stupid." Ben huffed, also not seeing the surprised look the Countess gave him, nor the smile that followed it.

"In any case, I'm glad Jacci's found a friend like you. It's good for her to feel comfortable with the body she's been given instead of always trying to have what she never will." Ben lifted his head, curiously, at those words. It had been bothering him ever since the Countess had warned him that Jacci might die if she wasn't cared for during her sickness, then as Jacci's condition had again worsened for the duration of their kidnapping- which had felt like weeks, but had only been twenty-four hours.

"Countess..." Ben said, quietly, hoping that she didn't become angry, "...Is Jacci REALLY going to be okay?" The Countess made no noise, but did raise an eyebrow at him. Ben gulped, uncomfortably, but eventually managed to find the right words that would mean exactly what he wanted them to mean, "...When we were still..." Ben shrugged, then gestured to the window, out to the murky landscape, which clearly conveyed what he meant, "...Jacci heard those people talking about how we were supposed to become Joiners... and we thought it meant they were some kind of parasite, like a worm that lives in your stomach..." The Countess still remained supremely inexpressive, but didn't do anything to discourage Ben's talking, "...Well... Jacci said, kind of joking, that maybe if it was a worm like that, maybe it would die living inside her, because she was sick..."

The Countess' eyebrow twitched, just a little, but it was enough. Ben gulped, but pushed.

"Will Jacci really be okay?"

The Countess, instead of answering, took the remainder of her cigar and dunked it in her cup of shabby tea. Not a drop was missing, while the ash dissolved and the flame sputtered out. Ben made a face, but still kept his ears open for an answer.

"The condition she has... IS potentially fatal." The Countess finally answered. Ben felt a shudder go up his back and tried to make himself look as small and cute as possible, hoping she would at least answer him with good news, or reassure him, somehow.

"So... only if something happens or something else doesn't happen, she might die?" He clarified, "As in, it's only conditionally..." The Countess' face was grim.

"...Conditionally fatal is a good term to use..." She finally admitted, "Only if two conditions are not met can this condition have a chance of killing a person." That lightened Ben's mood a little, enough that he smiled a bit and sat up a bit straighter.

"Okay... what're those?" Healthy diet, exercise, taking her medicine, keeping warm, drinking enough water, following treatment, he suspected- it couldn't be that tough. The Countess' expression remained hardened.

"The first would be the most obvious- she keeps to her medicine and remains on schedule for the dialysis. If worst comes to worst, the longest time between treatments could be forty-eight hours." O-kay, they hadn't done so well thus far, but Jacci was still alive and fine... it couldn't be too hard to stick to the other condition... "The second is that she receives a transplant on time."

Ben felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

"Wait, you mean..." He started, but the Countess was resolutely not looking at him.

"The Human body isn't meant to keep healing itself the way dialysis requires it to, and the process itself simply wears the body out. Nobody can really live on dialysis like this- it's just not how Humans are meant to function." She explained, but there was still that grim tone in her voice. Ben blinked at her for a moment, trying to will his eyes not to go as wide as they were going, before he recognized the tone the Countess was speaking in, since he'd used it so many times himself, especially when speaking of his relationship with his parents.

Resignation. The Countess had known this would happen, and was fully braced for it.

"So... how long... does she have?" Ben finally asked, talking around a lump that seemed to be swelling around his throat. The Countess shrugged.

"Most patients with kidney failure wouldn't make it to seven if it's a condition they're born with. But Jacci's body has some boosted healing abilities and immune systems- probably because of her eye. Because it's in the back of her head, the whole structure of her brain is different, so the hemisphere responsible for upkeep of the body probably developed some extra defenses." The Countess mused, holding up a hand and counting on her fingers, still not looking at Ben, "...I'd say, at most, she has another year."

"A YEAR?" Ben's voice felt shrill and choked, but the words came out just the same. The Countess still continued to look anywhere but Ben's direction.

"Yes. One more year." The Countess repeated, before turning back with a smile, "But, it's like they say- save the best for last. This year, she actually has a friend who isn't part of the household, she's become less anxious about her eye and unusual appearance, and she might just have a chance to have some real fun for once. At least it'll be a happy last year."

Ben blinked at the Countess for a moment, before he felt his eyes smarting and his bottom lip and chin started to shiver again, completely out of his control.

"But she's gonna DIE!" He wailed. The Countess looked away, again, but Ben didn't care- his mind was clicking through possibilities and frantic ideas and desperate wishes, before the Countess said something that made his brain seem to pause.

"Then, I suppose that's just what fate intends." Ben blinked up at the Countess for a few moments, wondering if he could have heard correctly, before his brain began clicking away again, slower, more calmly this time. Perhaps it was the tone the Countess had used, or perhaps it was just Ben's empathy- and this time, his empathy for the person before him- for someone who had already given up, when he was so used to doing the same thing when it came to his own problems, but Ben was determined not to let this happen without at least trying something.

"...What about the donor?" He finally asked, "If you found someone the right body and blood type, who could give a kidney, then she'd be fine, right?" Ben pressed. The Countess nodded, but still didn't look his way.

"She doesn't know that, does she?" Ben muttered. The Countess shook her head.

"Jacci is used to disappointment- it would be cruel to give her false hope like that, only to tell her that nobody is the exact match needed. And, besides..." The Countess stopped there, and this time, did not continue, though Ben could guess she was thinking along the lines of 'Death is kindness' or something like that. For some reason, though, it made him thoroughly upset to see her being so passive and accepting about it- maybe because he wasn't used to it, or perhaps because he was already upset about Jacci's imminent death, but Ben felt an incredible urge to slap the Countess across the face for how utterly pitiful she was being, especially compared to the woman who had once told him that everyone could chose their own future.

Oh, what the hell? Ben did it, anyway.

The Countess had obviously not been expecting it, if Ben were to judge from the look on her face. In a moment, however, Ben froze as something clicked, then pressed against the back of his head. As Ben couldn't turn and see who had a blaster to his head, the Countess dutifully supplied the information with a scandalized gasp.

"GORNASH! I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN BED!" Ben kept perfectly still until the Countess' hand came down with a smack on what could only have been the uninjured hand Gornash had been using to hold the blaster to Ben's head. As Ben heard the clatter of metal hitting the floor, he cautiously turned his head, only to be met with a glare from Gornash. Ben felt a shiver go up his back and quickly turned away again.

"You're on sick leave- I don't need you to be hovering over me like a second mother, and while you've got that injured hand, I don't want you doing ANYTHING with your arms except eating and drinking! Now put that blaster down and go BACK to bed!"

"Milady..."

"Don't argue, or I'll cut your pay again!"

"You will not."

"You know damn well that I will, now MOVE!"

The conversation ended quickly as Gornash was forcibly ejected from the room. Ben could still feel the spot where the blaster had been pressed against his head, but didn't say anything until he saw the Countess raise her fingertips to the spot he'd struck. Almost immediately, he regretted his action, and not just because he'd practically been killed.

"It's been a long time since someone slapped me like that." She finally said, slowly. It almost sounded like she was scolding, but Ben could tell she wasn't really annoyed- or, for that matter, all that interested at all, "The only person who ever daunted me enough that I would leave myself open to be struck was my mother... and the last time she ever was able to hit me was thirty years ago, when I was not yet even fourteen."

Ben felt his ears heat up. The Countess said nothing more for a long time, before Ben felt his own indignation and anger raise again- it was her own fault for... well, Ben didn't remember exactly why he'd been so mad, but the fact that this woman had been so resigned and... Wait, THAT had been it.

"Fate?" He finally demanded. The Countess' blinked at him for a moment, even as he kept frowning at her, "You said 'If this is what FATE intends'. What happened to the woman who told me 'Every person has the power to chose and control their future'? Did her spine just shrivel up, or did she just disappear? Are you some kind of impostor- is that it?"

The Countess' expression did not change. She didn't even blink, but continued to stare, quite blankly, at Ben, whom was beginning to seethe at this point.

"I refuse to believe a coward like YOU is the CMC that I know!"

The door slid open to the sick room and a woman with red hair, a bandage over her eye, and an irritated expression came out. Ben stopped shouting at the look on his mother's face, but quickly recovered as he saw how she was still half-dazed, as though just awoken from a deep sleep.

"Madame Skywalker, are you feeling unwell?" The Countess asked. Ben saw his mother shrug, just a little.

"Not really... I just thought I heard someone shouting." Ben looked in the other direction as he felt his mother's eye slither over him, "It woke me up."

"Perhaps you had a concussion neither of us realized?" The Countess suggested, mildly, but Ben's mother had turned away, back to the sick room. In the brief moment that Ben's anger had been interrupted, he suddenly no longer felt it, as though he'd been interrupted halfway through a filling meal, enough that he already felt no longer hungry, but still wasn't done yet. Still, he was sure that, sometime later that night, probably just as he was trying to go to sleep, the anger would return full force.

"Regardless, Sieur Ben... This is something that is a family matter. I appreciate that you want to help, but it is none of your business." The finality with which the statement was made seemed to sting a little more than it really should have. Ben blinked for a moment, before bristling again.

"How's it none of my business when Jacci's just as much my friend as she is your sister? You said that I was about the first real friend she had- well, it's the same for me, too. And I'm supposed to keep my nose out of it because you're not even going to try?" Ben demanded. He was tempted to just stamp his foot and get the temper tantrum underway- they never really did work, but right now, he was feeling indignant and angry and betrayed enough that it really made him wonder if he needed to be mature.

The Countess' eyes flashed.

"Sieur Ben, that's very selfish of you." These words were sharp and cold, different from other beratings, almost intentionally hurtful. Their effect, however, was precise and immediate, as Ben felt his face flush, first from anger, then from embarrassment, then from shame.

"Even if there was a chance that you could help, that decision is not yours to make- your parents are the ones who have control of that for you, as long as you are their child."

Then, she left to return attending to the patients in the room, leaving Ben alone, at least until he heard a blaster click behind him, with a strange sense of deja vu.

"Sit."

* * *

"Of course Jag would show up at a time like this, and now, suddenly, those two go at each other's throats while I have to try and break them up. Why can't boys think with something other than their hormones for once?" Jaina complained to nobody in particular as she looked for some solace on the _Millennium Falcon_. It had been chaotic enough with the Chiss suddenly showing up, but Jagged Fel's strike team had remained behind on the orders of the Aristocra "In case any assistance is needed and to ensure a safe journey back to the Inner Rim."

How kind.

Thus, Jaina was hiding in this remote area of the _Falcon_. Propriety normally dictated that she would not be allowed down here- only the pilot and copilot would be allowed- but it was that which made her certain that nobody would find and BUG her down here, to pardon the pun.

Jaina discovered how very sorely mistaken she was when she heard two voices talking- at least they weren't the bickering voices of Jag and Zekk, but they were still two voices she didn't want to hear at that moment. Her parents. Of course, it made sense- this was their quarters on the Falcon, but it didn't change the fact that Jaina REALLY wanted to be alone, in complete silence, right now.

Until she heard what her father was saying.

"All I'm saying is that we only know one person who had those kinds of traits- What if we were wrong about the whole thing back then?" Her father's voice was hushed, almost panicked. Jaina had never, in her life, heard her father sound panicked about something. And why was he being so quiet? These were their private quarters- nobody should be around to hear them. Well, okay, she was there, but she was an exception. They sure didn't KNOW she was there.

"Han, you're being unreasonable about this. The bodies were recovered, an autopsy was done, everyone knew that they died. And even after that, the bodies were disposed of. Nobody kept records of them, and their ship was disposed of. There's no way that she could be a child- look at her age. If they'd had a daughter before the incident, she'd have to be, at least, forty-one years old. Even the CMC isn't that old." Jaina heard her mother hiss back. Jaina's feet had frozen to the floor- she couldn't move, even if she wanted to. Something was rooting her to the spot, to the point she couldn't even block the noise from her ears.

"That's not what I'm really worried about... It's about... well, what if it was the KID? What if HE got out or..." Her dad responded, sounding even more panicked than before, but Jaina heard her mom stop him.

"That's not possible. He died, too- the guards told us." She said, but her tone was desperate, as though trying to convince herself of it as well, "We both heard it- he tried to escape by hiding in a dead prisoner's shroud, they ejected him out of the airlock. Even if he got out, he died in the vacuum, and if he hadn't suffocated, then the pressure change would have killed him. There's no way someone could survive that." Jaina felt a shiver go up her back, like something crawling along her spinal chord with icy feet.

She'd always known her parents hadn't led the lives of saints, but here they were, talking about people dying, and sounding scared at the prospect of those people surviving. Jaina had never thought she'd hear this kind of... what was it, really? The fear wasn't what scared her... but what it implied. Why would they be scared? The people who had died must have been terrifying enough that the idea of them still being alive was...

But who could possibly be like that? The only person Jaina could contemplate being even close to that terrifying, she'd only heard about from stories that Threepio told about the days of the Rebellion and the single time her little brother had been targeted for being possessed. And mom and dad had kicked his ass and kicked it good.

Still, who was this "Kid" they were talking about? As far as she knew, Darth Sidious hadn't had any family... unless it was someone else entirely that they were talking about, but WHO?

"But... the kid was, well... remember who he WAS? Think of the stuff you and Luke can do! And the kid just wasn't normal, either." Her father argued, only for her mother to continue shooting him down.

"He was just a kid. He couldn't do THAT much, and in any case, he was thirteen when he died... and that was thirty years ago- he couldn't have had kids, and you know it." The room was silent for a long time, before Jaina heard the door open, just barely giving her time to duck out of sight, "We better get back up to the control room before anyone misses us. Now, quit worrying about it."

There were footsteps and all Jaina could hear was her father muttering, "I still have a bad feeling about this."

Then, the footsteps faded away, leaving Jaina to ponder what she'd just heard.

"What was that... just now?" She whispered to nobody in particular. Somehow, she had as just as bad a feeling as her father had professed, and an even worse feeling that she would be spending some time in the information archives as soon as they returned to civilized society.

* * *

Ben obediently sat, but didn't dare twitch a muscle until he heard Gornash speak again.

"If I take the blaster away from your head, will you stay seated?" His voice was sharp, almost as though, instead of asking if Ben would comply, he was giving Ben an order. And put like that, there was very little Ben could do but gulp, loudly, and nod. Or, at the very least, there was very little he had the nerve to do, aside from that.

"Yessir." Ben muttered, his throat feeling like someone had poured thick, sticky sludge down it so his vocal chords were glued together. Nevertheless, Gornash lifted the blaster away from Ben's head and in a few moments, with the sound of footsteps, Ben saw Gornash somewhat limp around the couches and sit directly across from Ben. Ben kept his eyes carefully trained on the white-haired steward, feeling particularly queasy at the prospect of letting the man who was holding the blaster out of his sight.

Still, for someone with an injured hand, Ben wondered how far he could get while Gornash reloaded. Ben had to think about that, before realizing Gornash wouldn't NEED to reload- if Ben stayed put, Gornash probably wouldn't pull out that blaster again, but if he DID pull it out, it would be one shot and Ben could very well be done for.

"Um... you wanted to talk?" Ben guessed, but Gornash's stare remained icy and hardened. Which Ben could only assume meant that Gornash DID want to talk about something, but was not about to give Ben the upper hand, even if it was because Ben had guessed the topic of conversation.

"With all due respect, what the HELL did you think you were doing?" Gornash demanded. Ben shrank away a little, knowing full well what Gornash was referring to. In all honesty, Ben wasn't sure now what he'd been doing when he'd struck the Countess across the face- actually, he kind of regretted it, and not just because he was in trouble now. Funny, but this seemed to be turning into a pattern.

Oh well- it also seemed to be earning him a little more credit in other people's eyes that he wasn't just worried about himself all the time. In any case, Gornash was still glaring at him, awaiting an answer.

"Um... knocking... sense into her?" Ben guessed, but Gornash seemed incredibly unamused with the response, only glaring a little more.

"That..." Gornash said, sternly, "Is MY duty." Ben opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it as Gornash's eyes flashed, "I do not care what you think regarding these issues, but keep in mind the fact that you are an outsider- you do NOT know everything, you do not even know that MUCH about what Milady has lived through. That being said, respect her judgment."

Ben felt his stomach sink lower in his abdomen, almost like all of his organs and their nerve endings were going to his feet. The Countess hadn't said it, but now, he was fully reminded of exactly how insolent he'd been, trying to tell the Countess off. And, maybe, a little hypocritical. Then, of course, the fact that he'd slapped a woman AND that she was many years OLDER than him... just... rude, no matter how it was looked at.

"...You've... been with the Countess for awhile... haven't you?" Ben finally made himself say, deciding it was the most neutral thing he could manage. Gornash's glare remained, impassive as ever.

"Milady's wish is that you are not to be harmed. I intend to respect that. HOWEVER-" Gornash paused, impressively, which made Ben's insides writhe with anticipation and dread, "If you dare raise a hand against her, ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you- I do not care if she fires me or turns me over to the police or executes me, herself. I will not forgive anyone who brings Milady harm."

The steward stood and hobbled out of the room, presumably to return to his dictated bedrest, leaving Ben with a jumble of emotions and more than one thing to think about, before his mother stumbled out of the room again, this time in a much clearer state of mind than she had seemed before, earlier.

It quickly became apparent how skilled Ben's mother was in acting.

"What were you arguing about with the CMC when I woke up the first time?" She asked, almost immediately, which made Ben wonder if she'd been just pretending to be sleepy and disoriented, or if her memory was just clearer, but the thought was quickly drowned by the returning despair that the reminder of Jacci's affliction brought.

"...Jacci's gonna die..." Ben finally whispered, and as this explanation was nowhere near sufficient, Ben explained the whole process to his mother, who remained thoughtfully silent through it. Privately, Ben wondered if it was a good thing that his mother wasn't saying anything- usually when she was silent, it meant she was thinking about something, and from the few times he'd seen her think about something he was telling her, she was usually pondering how to kill whoever it was who'd put her son in danger.

Ben stopped talking, but his mother said nothing for several minutes, until,

"You want to do something to help." She said. Ben blinked, and his throat felt a thud as he let out a breath that might have also been a noise, but didn't look up at his mother, finally nodding. She hadn't asked, but at the same time, she was making the statement in such a way that Ben could have corrected her if she'd been wrong.

But she hadn't been.

"Specifically, you want to be a donor." His mother continued. Again, there was that strange kindness, yet commanding lack of confusion or ignorance that made Ben feel utterly miserable inside- in fact, he felt almost embarrassed that his mother, of all people, was being so kind to him. He was old enough, and a boy, at that, that he shouldn't be pampered by his parents, or anyone, and he felt shame that he was crying to her like a big baby over something like this, instead of trying to take care of it, himself.

"Mm." Was all he said. His mother was still watching him- he could feel her eyes lingering on him, as though lasers were shooting out of her pupils.

"Ben... that depends on several things. If you and Jacci aren't the same blood and body type, you can't do that, or it will only make her sicker." Ben could almost swear his mother was just making an excuse for him not to be a donor, but something told him that she wasn't really forbidding it... just... reminding him of some facts. While it was comforting to finally hear it, Ben was so unused to the understanding and gentleness that he felt very awkward.

"I know that... I... know that already..." Ben almost snapped, but his voice just wouldn't become harsh enough for that. Instead, he almost felt like he was almost begging her for something, "But... The Countess..." Ben's mother was remaining strangely silent through this. "The Countess, she said... She said that it wasn't any of my business... and anyway... you guys are the ones I have to ask for permission... that I can't make the decision for myself."

"Really?" Ben could feel his mother's anger and incredulity spike, though none of it directed at him. Silently, Ben wondered what his mother was thinking, and why she was angry, "Your father and I will talk to her."

Ben felt something in his stomach twist, before he looked up at his mother, who had stood again.

"Don't do that!" He called, as though he thought she might not hear him over the whole of a meter they were standing apart, "I don't want you and Dad to talk to her... that's..."

"Ben." His mother's voice had returned to that familiar hardened tone, "A life hangs in the balance. Now is not the time to be selfish." Ben made a small noise of surprise as his breath came in sharply at his mother's words, "Sometimes, you have to swallow your pride to do the right thing- I know you want to talk to her about it, yourself, but since you've already tried and she's turned you down, that means she's not willing to listen to you. In that case, it's time for US to intervene. Think about that- if you utterly refused to let your father and I help, the Countess will never listen and Jacci will never get the transplant she needs." Ben felt his arms shaking, the words stinging even more because of how true they were, "Do you understand that?"

Ben hung his head, then sat back down, letting his mother walk away.

* * *

_"You don't have to call me Commander Skywalker- Luke's just fine. Everyone else calls me that."_

_"Really? I can really just call you Luke?"_

_"Yeah, really."_

Luke woke up, not quite with a start, but still with a bit of a jerk. It had seemed so real, but the details were fading, quickly. He kept his eyes shut, still feeling exhausted, but more in his head instead of in his body- it was as though his mind couldn't sleep, and was instead, running marathons inside his skull. He couldn't piece things together the way he normally could, and his emotions were all battling for dominance, screaming to be set free. So, for the time being, he just kept his eyes shut, apathy taking control for the time being.

"Commander Skywalker, are you alright?" Luke's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly enough to make him dizzy. Almost abruptly, a hand was on his chest, pushing him back down, and Luke saw what looked like a young boy with dark hair and bright eyes hovering over him, before his vision cleared and he could see the long braid draped over the Countess' shoulder.

"Oh... Excellency... sorry." Luke ran a hand over his face, massaging his forehead and the side of his face near his eyes, "...I didn't recognize you for a moment..."

He heard the Countess chuckle, a little. Something about the noise made his spine shiver, but as he stretched into the Force, while her presence was missing as ever, he could sense no kind of ill will, here or elsewhere.

"That's alright- I have a very plain face." She assured him. Luke paused, wondering if he really wanted to tell her exactly how he hadn't recognized her, but decided against it, opting to say something else.

"You can just call me Luke, you know." He heard the Countess set down something- something made of glass, he guessed- with a bit of a sharp clink, "Instead of Commander Skywalker, or Master Skywalker, or any other formal title... nobody else really uses them... except at professional gatherings, and even then..." Why the Krithin Hells was he saying this? Part of it might have been because it simply made him uncomfortable when people addressed him by a title- even when Kyp or Tionne or Chief Omas called on him in a professional setting, he still felt incredibly awkward, not being able to really think of himself as a "Master" or...

Come to think of it... why was this woman using "Commander"? He hadn't been called that in... a long time. Longer than he suspected Ben Kenobi had been called Obi-Wan when Luke first began...

"Really? It's interesting you are so adverse to the title..." The Countess said, interrupting his line of thought. Luke lifted his hand and turned to stare at the woman's back. It was strange how she seemed to change so often and so quickly- both in personality and in appearance. One minute, she could appear fair and delicately featured with a sweet temperament, then the next she would be snarling and barking and gnashing teeth equivalent to a wolf's fangs and eyes burning with rage. Currently, though, Luke could see nothing of her face, or much at all- the dress she wore was plain black and hung straight down, only a bit of static electricity causing areas of it to cling to her back or somewhere on her leg.

"...I guess..." Luke finally conceded, trying not to show how concerned he was about this unusual person, whom was slowly, but quite surely, revealing herself to be more than she appeared. The Countess turned, this time smiling in a mask-like expression. In her hands, she held something that, as Luke felt her drape it over his forehead, turned out to be a cold, damp cloth.

"You should probably rest a little more- it's only a few degrees, but a fever is a fever." She said. Luke wondered if he should inform her that he could handle a fever on his own, but, currently he simply didn't have the energy to either argue or go into a healing trance. It felt like his head would explode if he tried, at least without meditating for a while... and he REALLY didn't feel up to that either. Maybe that was part of the fever.

"...Aah..." Luke managed, "...Thank you for your hospitality." Words hurt- really, they made his temples throb and his tongue felt like it was slowing down. Oh... she'd probably put some kind of relaxant in with the water on the cloth... well, that would do it...

"Not at all, Com-" Luke shot the Countess a look, which, even as she retreated from the room, she caught. Luke's eyes closed again, but he saw the blurriest image of her expression changing to a genuine smile, "...Luke."

A/N: Yeah... that "Teacher"... it was Luke. You guys should have guessed by now... I mean, he had a slew of girlfriends and plenty of students before founding the Order and marrying Mara. Geez, I'm amazed that nobody got a disease or pregnant during all those relationships... you'd think... ... ...

Um... actually, never mind... But READ!


	19. Part II: Chapter 6

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By Sapadu

A/N: Um... wow... over 4500 hits... I'm honored.

Thinking about it, once the CMC's identity is revealed and I tell you guys where to find the character in the books... you'll all realize how many hints I've been dropping, and so many of them are going to be so blatant that you'll just cringe. Y'know... kinda how we all felt when we went back to read the Harry Potter books, knowing the barman was Dumbledore's brother and we all flinched at the blatant connections thrown in...

...Right...

Chapter 6:

_"...Don't throw me away. I think I'd go crazy without you around."_

This was getting to be a very bad pattern, waking up with this lingering feeling that he'd been remembering something, but virtually all pieces of the memory slipping away as soon as he woke up. Luke groaned a little and brought a hand up to cover his face as the lights in the room seemed to pierce through his eyelids.

"Farmboy? What's wrong?" Luke blinked his eyes open a little. He could tell that Mara was worried, concerned, and in a bit of a rush. But, more than that, there was something wrong. Something was bothering her that was somehow or another very important, but also something inside of Luke just would not settle right, as though an old wound that everyone thought had healed and was gone forever to the point they had forgotten its existence entirely had suddenly reopened and wouldn't close again.

"Mara... I think I'm beginning to remember something... that I never should have forgotten."

But for now, there was a more pressing matter. That would be dealt with, first.

* * *

"So that's how you had all of this figured out? From the beginning?" Han asked, looking at all the information spread on the table. The Countess had sat through an interrogation, demanding to know how she'd figured out where Luke and Mara had been, how she'd known about the Gorog, how she'd known about Alema Rar, and how she'd essentially been three steps ahead of everyone throughout the whole damn series of events. In response, she'd taken out every documented scrap of information she'd used and spread it out on the table, including, but not limited to, a log of Alema Rar's destinations from her ship, a dictionary of poisons and their properties, a map, and several documents about some of these planets in the unknown regions that were apparently very old, but still very correct.

Looking at all of the information like this, Han somehow doubted that ANYONE could have not figured out what had been going on and why and how.

"Damn... Stop being right all the time- it makes us old guys look bad when some punk knows more than we do." Han finally said, half-joking. The Countess smiled and chuckled a little.

"Forgive me- it's still a bad habit of my youth to always know everything." She replied. Han cast her a shrewd glance, snickering.

"Bet the teachers in your school hated you." He mused, even as the Countess conceded, indeed, she'd been a bit of a know-it-all, "Somehow, I've got this image of a younger version of you correcting me about which Correllian pilots made the record time on the Bespin run or something like that."

The Countess didn't reply, except to continue smiling.

"In any case, it is about time that we all returned home, now that the crisis is over and the injured are recovered. I'm sure it's almost chaos back on Coruscant." The Countess rose from her seat, pulling all her documents back and beginning to leave the room. Han stood and followed her, but cautiously. His recent discovery about the woman's little sister had set him and Leia on their guard- they had only known one person like that, and frankly, Han had hoped he'd been gone and gone for good.

Still, Leia had been quite certain that there was no connection- and given that he'd been living on Leia's hunches for a long time now, he had a tendency to trust her and that Jedi hocus-pocus of hers. Chances were it was just a coincidence or, if it wasn't coincidence, there was still no way she could be related to that person.

Still, Han wasn't about to trust the Countess so openly. He wasn't even sure if he had to begin with, or if maybe he just felt amiable towards her because of some similarities, but she was still just an acquaintance. Not a "Friend" like Luke or Lando or Chew-

"Captain Solo, was there something else you wanted?" She asked, jolting Han out of his trance-like state and making him put on a fake smile.

"Eh- just wondering how well everyone's doing. You said they were recovered, but that steward of yours still has a bandage on his hand and everything..." He said, making the excuse on the spot. The Countess blinked, but smiled, still.

"Well, Jacci's illness is a perpetual thing, but she should be fine as long as she doesn't run away again. Gornash's injuries are nobody's business but will worsen if he doesn't sit the hell still- I'll see to that. Madame Skywalker's eye is still intact- really, I'm amazed she doesn't even have a scar, since burns can be quite nasty, especially on the face. As for Luke..." But the Countess was cut off as Han made a somewhat gleeful noise.

"Oh, LUKE, is it now? No more Sieur or Master or whatever title it is Skywalker?" He had a feeling this would be amusing. The Countess turned back and actually managed to look shy.

"He insisted. It was very kind of him." She replied. Han's grin turned real and almost malicious as he decided to pry a little further.

"Do I detect the traces of ATTRACTION from this lovely lady before me?" He asked, delighting in how the Countess was beginning to look uncomfortable, in fact, she had looked away by now and was hurrying away, almost skittishly.

Oh, he was going to LIKE this.

* * *

"So, Ben wants to help by donating a kidney?" Luke asked, trying to be sure. Mara nodded, looking wistful. Luke pondered the situation, himself. It was... unusual, to say the least, for Ben to be so attached to someone. Thus far, he'd mostly only really reacted to his cousins and Han and Leia, but even then, there was some kind of distance that came from his refusal to use the Force or acknowledge Luke or Mara.

Not that Luke was complaining about his son's ability to finally open up to someone. Actually, it was a relief, if only because it meant Ben was actually making friends who weren't somehow related.

"Do you think it might have something to do with the fact that they almost became Joiners?" Mara finally asked. Luke was startled out of his reverie, but it was something that hadn't occurred to him until now.

Said like that, it felt like it should have been glaringly obvious.

"It might be possible. But, for all we know, Ben might have offered, regardless of this incident. And, really, what does being a Joiner have to do with it, as far as you can tell?" Luke asked, trying to see the reasoning- as far as an emotional argument came, Luke was willing to accept the explanation of Ben and Jacci narrowly avoiding becoming Joiners, but logic was saying that the Joiner's bond really didn't have anything to do with it.

"Part of it is because, if nothing else, it's a semi-survival instinct, or so I suspect." Mara said, grimly, "Because the girl will die without the transplant, and with their minds linked, Ben subconsciously thinks that HIS life depends on his doing this. So, while he thinks he's doing this to save someone else, unconsciously, he's attempting to save himself, despite the fact that he doesn't need to, or that this wouldn't help him, in the least." Luke frowned, trying to understand how Mara had put it, but it did make sense. And, frankly, only Mara would be callous enough to think of it in those terms.

"But, I think, it's also because, since Ben knows she won't live, the girl probably also knows, now. And, somehow, her desire to live is forced into Ben's mind, which then makes him want to do this." Again, simple, yet chilling at the same time. It almost made Luke wonder if Mara might be right, even if it was for a very grim reason.

"Those are possibilities... What did you say when Ben told you?" Luke finally asked. Mara looked away, but Luke smiled, "You want to help, too?"

Mara snorted, a little.

"Ben's finally made a friend- I don't think it would be good for him to experience death, just yet, not like this." Luke heard her being defensive, and for all intents and purposes, Mara's harsh words were somewhat true, but Luke could tell she was just avoiding admitting that she cared about the other life that would be effected by this.

"And the fact that an innocent nine-year-old girl might die if something isn't done has nothing to do with it?" Luke asked, in that farmboy-ish way that always made Mara angry, but only because he was right.

"I just said that we'd talk to her- nothing else." Mara insisted, almost childishly except that Mara Jade Skywalker was NEVER childish. Luke sighed, knowing that his wife's definition of "Talk" usually included a blaster, poison, thumbscrews, and a long list of demands to be met before the hostage was released.

"Well, why don't we go find the woman herself and do just that?" Luke suggested, sitting forward enough to try and push the covers back to get out of bed, before Mara stopped him.

"For one thing, you still can't feel anything waist down- you ain't goin' nowhere, Farmboy." She insisted, before a familiar voice reentered the room.

"For another, I'd hardly think I need finding." Luke had had a feeling that, if he suggested they go and find the Countess, she would helpfully make herself present as per tradition. Just as he'd thought, the CMC herself was in the doorway just as he'd finished speaking.

"In that case, we would like to have a word with you." Luke said, amiably. Though the Countess looked puzzled, she did not leave nor discourage further discussion. In his experience thus far, Luke had come to understand this was simply how she invited people to keep speaking when she was at a loss for words, but Mara took over before he could speak.

"You probably know this already, given how you know everything all the time, but I heard your discussion with my son earlier, especially the part regarding the health of your little sister, and exactly what you had to say about it." Mara said. This was enough to make Luke hang his head and cover his face with his hands in utter embarrassment. As much as he adored his wife, there were times that he sorely wished she could at least learn a little tact.

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" The Countess asked in a tone that expressed she was somehow annoyed, yet amazed at the same time, as though she couldn't decide if her admiration for Mara's bluntness was enough of a redemption for her blatant intrusion on such a personal matter.

"You bet I don't. And, since this is something with a deadline, I'd like to get right to the point- which is that Ben wants to help, but you told him off, which was out of line." Mara continued, ignoring the disapproval the Countess was showing. Luke wisely kept silent, listening to what the CMC's reaction would be, given that Mara probably would NOT be listening for it.

"And, considering the number of other things I have done thus far that might also be considered out of line, the fact that you are calling me on THIS just shows the importance of the situation." The Countess surmised, expression very bland as her eyes remained half-lidded, gaze firmly on Mara. What would have unnerved Luke enough to silence him didn't even make Mara flinch- she was very good at disregarding people's contempt for her.

"Out of curiosity, why would you tell Ben to keep his nose out of it when he's just offering to help? And in a way that he really couldn't do any harm, too?" Mara pressed, frowning. The Countess' stare did not waver.

"Because, as kind as his intentions were, providing false hope is worse than providing no hope at all. He may be young and not truly understand yet, but I have known that Jacci would not live a normal life since before she was born and it was equally difficult to accept that she will die. I do not appreciate anyone, even someone who means to help, undermining that." Her tone had turned sharp. Mara didn't seem to be affected by it.

"I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that there might be some REAL hope in there, did it?" She asked, remorseless. The Countess' blank expression returned, before she smiled again, but this time, rather nastily.

"It did. And then, I heard my alarm clock ringing." She replied. Luke glanced between the two, wondering how best to intervene before the two women killed each other- it was becoming obvious that Mara's patience was wearing thin, and the CMC certainly didn't seem to be too pleased at being told what was best for her own sister by someone like Mara. A thought occurred to him.

"I heard from Kyp what kind of business you run." Luke said. The Countess and Mara stopped glaring at each other, but Mara turned her glare on Luke while the Countess simply looked in the opposite direction of the two Skywalkers, altogether.

"I see." Was all she said, while Mara continued to glare at her husband, until a look crossed her face that told Luke she understood exactly where he was going with this.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, but your business is that, for a price, you grant people their Wish, correct?" The Countess also seemed to understand how Luke was thinking, because her clipped reply sounded irritated.

"If it is POSSIBLE, yes- I grant people their Wish. I'm not all powerful- I can't raise the dead or anything like that, and I do not intend to try." Luke smiled a little, a few words of wisdom coming back from his early days as a Jedi.

_"Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try."_

"The request I'm about to ask isn't impossible." Luke replied, evenly, and though he couldn't see the Countess face, he knew this had piqued her interest, "I Wish that you would accept Ben's offer to donate- even if your sister cannot be the recipient, Ben still wishes to help SOMEone. Perhaps he would be the correct match for someone else, but you might be pleasantly surprised."

There was that pause again- the sensation that, even though Luke couldn't see the Countess' face, he could tell that she was intrigued. And, possibly, even hopeful.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Came a voice from outside the door. All three adult's heads snapped around before the Countess gestured towards the door, forcing it open. Ben stood outside with a hand over his mouth and muttering Rodian-sounding words under his breath that Luke was willing to bet were some very creative invectives.

"Ben!" Mara said, sharply. Luke had to force himself to look stern, despite his amusement.

"Were you listening this whole time?" He asked. Ben's eyes shifted as he tried to look small.

"No?" He guessed. Luke's severe gaze became more sincere.

"I don't believe you. Come over here." Luke could see Ben's face drop, almost guiltily as he stepped inside the room, then halted. Luke lifted his hand and waved, "Come here." He repeated. Ben took one step, then stopped again, eyes darting around the room as though expecting a swarm of the Gorog to come crawling out of all of their bodies, "Come HERE." Luke repeated a third time, slowly growing more irritated as Ben's movements in the right direction decreased to centimeters per step.

(A/N: Sorry to interrupt, but children DO do this, and anyone with kids should KNOW that. I firmly believe none of the writers for the Star Wars EU really have children, or at least none that they actually spend time with, because they cannot write kids to save their lives.)

"That's all very well and good, but even with that condition..." The Countess began, though Luke recognized she was no longer irritated, nor even antagonistic towards the suggestion any more, "There still remains the detail of what it will COST." Luke found himself very hard pressed to not smirk, but there was something very... what was the word for it... something almost amusing about the shrewd, business-like attitude that had replaced the disconsolate, worried elder sister a moment ago.

"I am willing to accept what is necessary." Luke said, calmly, even as he grew more and more aware of his son's gaze on him. He had the feeling that Ben was probably unnerved by this, if only because Luke and Mara had never really had a chance to be this involved with his life, given all the wars and other duties they had to attend to, "I already give my permission, if that is what you need."

"Permission, and time." The Countess said, simply, "Unless you are willing to allow your son out from under yours and the Madame's wing for a few consecutive days for the appropriate measures to be walked through... I'm afraid I cannot grant this Wish."

Luke raised an eyebrow. Somehow, even as the request made sense, the Countess was so very, very right about how much he disliked having to acquiesce to it, particularly after the last incident. If he recalled correctly, Mara had said some things along the lines of 'We're not letting that boy out of our sight again as long as we live' and he, Luke, had said very little against that sentiment.

"Where will he be during those days that he's not going to be at home?" Mara put in, effectively giving Luke's father complex a more specific route to focus on. The Countess gave Mara a Look, which expressed, quite clearly, that the answer should have been perfectly obvious, before raising her hand and simply pointing at herself in answer.

"Oh. Right."

"How long will I have to stay?" Ben interrupted, suddenly much closer than he had been a moment before, "Like, will it be a few days or will it be, like, weeks?"

Luke felt Mara jump at how her son had suddenly appeared at her elbow, but blinked at the questions he asked. The Countess blinked for a moment, before considering.

"Probably closer to a number of weeks as opposed to days... recovery time from surgery, especially for someone your age, is something particularly risky... It's usually best to overestimate these things." She said, after counting off on her fingers. Ben just grinned and skipped, cheerfully, out of the room.

"I gotta get packing." Luke heard as Ben rounded the corner and out of sight.

"Ben!" Mara called, but her voice died as it became evident that Ben was neither going to hear nor listen to her protest, "...We haven't... decided..."

"I somehow have the impression those words won't be effective, even if he heard them." The Countess noted, dryly. Mara sighed, but only just a little, before she finally relaxed a little.

"Okay, then. But..." Luke bit back any instinctual responses to tell Mara not to threaten this woman when she was "Granting a Wish", having the distinct impression that doing that would be a very BAD idea, as well as that Mara wouldn't listen to the warning, "Ben better not get kidnapped again. If we come to pick him up after the whole issue is resolved, and he's been taken away by another maniac, I will..."

Here, Mara paused to find an appropriate threat- it was the first time Luke had seen her taken aback or at a loss for words, but part of it might have been because she couldn't think of anything that would be an effective threat against the Countess, or possibly because Mara didn't know exactly how much of it she would be capable of carrying out if the situation DID arise.

Probably the former- there was very little Mara Jade was NOT capable of doing.

"Kill me?" The Countess asked, but her tone seemed almost eager, practically gleeful, though Luke couldn't tell why. In any case, it was quite apparent that "Death" would not be an effective threat.

"I'll take your sister as hostage and trade her to the kidnappers for Ben." Mara finally said, though with a pleasant smile on her face. Luke's jaw fell open in an attempt to protest, but the Countess laughed, though not mockingly or maliciously.

"So, you'll have your son back and I'll have to deal with the kidnapping, and it will be entirely MY problem then. Effective." She mused. Luke outright stared at the two women, almost in shock at how well they were getting along- very quick wits, and very morbid senses of humor, but at the same time... "You have every assurance that Ben will be safe." The Countess' eyes opened, "I don't think anyone in the Household would let any harm come to him, anyway."

Luke felt something go up his spine- something in the Countess' words, which sparked a realization in him that was both comforting, and at the same time, unnerving.

"That's the real reason you're pushing like this." He said, quietly. The CMC, whom had turned to leave, froze, quite abruptly, before she turned, eyes narrowed and almost glaring at Luke. He didn't flinch, "It's not because you don't want to go through with this, or because you don't want your sister to be hurt... you want to make this difficult for Ben so that he becomes devoted to this." Whatever THIS was- whether it was the specific task of helping his friend, or the general task of doing everything in his power to help those in need- Luke couldn't be sure, but he felt no shortage of gratitude that Ben was being pushed to this.

The Countess's eyes sharpened for a moment, but then, somehow, softened.

"You realized it, too..." She said, quietly, before turning, closing the door, and leaning back against it, arms folded up behind her, "The need for him to forge bonds with other people..."

Even as the room was completely silent, Luke almost felt the smile from Mara, enough that he looked over and saw her with a distantly pleased look on her face.

"Because, with every person we meet, we change just a little bit, right?" She mused, before Luke saw her eye slide over to meet his gaze for a brief second, then slide away again. Luke looked away, face going red, knowing what Mara was thinking about, "But why are YOU so interested in how OUR son is going to grow up? All things being the same, if you hadn't met him at the carnival on Ord Mantell with Jacen and Jaina, you wouldn't have any reason to invest any amount of time in Ben..."

Luke heard the Countess chuckle.

"That's true... but, things being the way they are..." She paused, but it seemed more for dramatic effect than anything else, "...I suppose it's just a nostalgic feeling." Mara seemed to understand this better than Luke, because she continued smiling.

"Besides... he'll need to meet those people waiting for him down the line... to grow strong enough to survive." Luke and Mara blinked, then frowned, but the Countess continued, unaware of their concern, "Growing up never is easy... but... the life he is about to lead... that may be especially difficult."

And then, it clicked.

"Excellency... how do you know this?" Luke asked cautiously. The CMC was silent before she abruptly said,

"I wonder if it's raining on Coruscant..."

"Don't change the subject..." Mara hissed, but Luke put a hand on her arm.

"If you don't mind, Excellency... When you say things like that, how can you be so sure that the future is as determined as that?" Luke asked, again. The Countess blinked for a moment but finally shrugged.

"Maybe I don't. Maybe it will happen, maybe it won't... but I want to believe in those children... I want to hope for the better. So... all of this is necessary."

Luke considered this, before shaking his head a little.

"You could have SAID something- if nothing else, Mara and I understand things like that." He finally said. The CMC merely chuckled.

"I know. I'm selfish that way."

* * *

It was with a heavy breath Tilus set down the chair Haid was sitting upon in the right room. Either Haid was heavier than she looked, or Tilus was just really weak, but either way, he was tired.

"I'm sorry you have to carry me like this all the time, Tilus." Haid whispered as Tilus gasped for breath. Almost immediately, he sat up and started to shake his head, almost like a puppy expecting to be petted- appropriate, since Haid obliged and started to pat his head.

"It's okay- it's not your fault that you can't walk on your own." He insisted, grinning like a maniac as Haid scratched behind one of his ears. On the other side of the door they'd come to a rest in front of, a voice called.

"Just sitting outside the door doesn't make a knocking sound. What do you two want?" The voice said. Haid almost jumped, except she really couldn't. Tilus rolled over onto his back and started flailing to get back up.

"Oh... so you ARE awake in there..." Haid finally said, quietly. Tilus blinked for a moment before losing his patience and waddling over to the door, pounding on it with a hammy fist.

"Ouduar, open up!" He demanded. There was a pause, then a shuffling, and then the door slid open, just the littlest bit. The room beyond was completely dark, and it was quite obvious Ouduar had no desire to be sociable that day.

"You should be more specific with your orders- technically, this IS opening up." Ouduar's voice said, but Haid could hear the smirk in his voice. Tilus ground his teeth, before Haid put a hand on the top of his shiny head and tried to reason with him.

"Ouduar, please... we need some help, and really, you're the only one who could..."

Ouduar's voice, despite being consistently soft and gentle, somehow always had that uncanny ability to cut through any person's words. It was as though his own words were some kind of cleverly disguised blade, hidden inside something completely innocent and unsuspecting, only cutting when picked up the wrong way by the wrong person.

"I will not be leaving this room in this house for this day because my mother is currently in need of someone to care for her and when she recovers, which will hopefully be tomorrow if not sooner, then I will consider coming back out, but until then, I will not welcome disturbances." All of this was said in a single breath, which told Haid, more than anything, that it was true.

"I-it's nothing that we need you to leave the room for..." She assured him, quickly, meekly, "It's... well, we just need a few questions answered... and..."

"Do you think I'm an Ouija board?" Ouduar asked, though he didn't sound annoyed. If anything, he sounded quite amused. Tilus rolled his eyes and answered.

"Yes." Haid flinched at Tilus' bluntness, but Ouduar made no remark to express any displeasure. After a moment of waiting, something poked out of the door- the end of a scroll.

"That should do it." Ouduar's voice informed Haid. She took it, mumbling a thanks she wasn't sure Ouduar either heard or cared about. There was a click, then the smell of smoke- Ouduar must have lit up.

"That reminds me, Ouduar... there's someone new in the household... that young one that Shaku-sama's taken a liking to..." Haid pushed, a little adventurously for her. She heard no response from Ouduar except a puff of breath which must have been him blowing out smoke, "...His name is Ben Skywalker..."

This time, her words earned a chuckle.

"Aah... him..." Ouduar said, slowly. Haid felt a shiver go up her back- there was something about Ouduar's tone that made her very nervous. Something told her that Ouduar was thinking some less than savory thoughts about the subject at hand. Her suspicions became confirmed as Ouduar spoke, softly, "...I wonder what that man will do if, for some reason, little Ben doesn't become part of the Household, like he plans..."

Haid didn't have the chance to react in an appropriately shocked manner- Tilus did it for her, banging his large hands on the door.

"What're you saying? You KNOW it's dangerous for you to talk like that! Are you TRYING to hurt someone, here? You KNOW what Excellency's gonna do to you if anything happens to that boy- and he's not THAT bad, even if he IS that man's son..."

Tilus was interrupted as a thin, black sliver slid out of the crack the door was open for and whipped Tilus across his shoulder, sending him rolling backwards.

"That boy won't be harmed. He seems too interesting for that." Ouduar's voice curtly informed them, before continuing, silkily, "I wonder how much fun he'll be..."

* * *

"At least we're back in the same part of the galaxy... I thought we'd never LEAVE..." Han moaned, stretching in his seat. Leia chuckled a little, but didn't really respond, despite knowing they had only been in the Unknown Regions for a few days, a week at most. Both of them were still tense over their conversation a few days ago- part of it was because they were both very leery of any possibility of that person still being around, or, indeed, anyone related to him.

However, the other part was because she had been more than happy to forget about that particularly uncomfortable period in her lifetime. Suddenly, this Countess and her odd little sister show up, both bearing incredibly haunting physical resemblances to two key figures during that time, and the memories came back.

"...Han..." Leia said, quietly, and when Han didn't turn to look at her, she continued, "...Did you really believe what I said about... the CMC and her sister... and the two they reminded you of?"

This time, Han DID turn around, but with an expression on his face that Leia hadn't seen since their days of Jacen and Jaina doing stupid things like sticking their fingers into electrical sockets- to be precise, it was the look of 'I-hope-I-didn't-just-hear-that-correctly'.

"YOU were the one who was so convinced of all the stuff you said! Don't tell me you're having second thoughts- I was just beginning to believe it." Han said, almost disbelievingly. Leia thought it was 'almost' because, knowing Han, he really hadn't started to believe it like he claimed.

"I just need to hear a little back-up, that's all..." Leia said, almost defensively, except she had mostly expected this response from Han.

What she hadn't expected was for Han to sigh and, instead of giving her the reassurance that normally came so easily to his lips, start saying the exact opposite.

"To be honest, I'd LIKE to say that, logically, you were right. And, really, you were. But looking back on the last several years of our lives, logic hasn't exactly been a deciding factor. Situations where, logically, we were supposed to have died, we got out without a scratch. Situations where, logically, we should have just gone in and gotten out double-time, we ended up in the middle of a long-ass battle. Hell, logically, the Rebs never should have blown up the Death Star- It was Luke who used some of that Jedi stuff to force the blasts to connect with the target, and THAT'S what got all of us outta there in one piece." Han calmed enough to stop ranting, but when he did, the words provided no comfort, "I guess what I'm saying, sweetheart, is that all those logical things you said to prove that the kid and the big guy didn't have anything to do with this... ain't gonna cut it."

Leia blinked at Han for a moment, mostly at a loss for words, before Han sighed a little and averted his eyes.

"...I never thought I'd say this but, well... Trust in the Force..." Leia almost felt her jaw drop open with incredulity, before Han tacked on, at the end, "Or something like that."

Leia smiled, just a little- the fact that Han, of all people, was saying that trusting the Force was better than thinking logically was a mark of how serious he must be. After a moment, Leia focused and let the Force flow into her...

And felt nothing.

It must have shown on her face, because Han started talking, almost immediately.

"Something wrong?" He asked. Leia opened her eyes again.

"...It's... there's nothing there..." She said, quietly. In all honesty, she was almost afraid, but she wasn't about to admit that, "...The Force... I can FEEL it... but it's not answering me. It's as though it can't hear me... or isn't listening... or..." Leia broke off as Han let out a bark that almost sounded like he was laughing, but was quickly disguised with coughing. He looked away as Leia frowned in his direction.

"Han?"

The roguish grin came to Han's lips, before he put a hand over his mouth to make his voice echo.

"'Hello, the Force is not available at this moment. Please leave a message after the beep. Be forewarned there will be no beep.'" The imitation of a voice-mailbox dissolved into snickers that Leia couldn't help but join in. The snickering turned into laughs, which ended with Leia leaning back in her seat of a pilot's chair, exhausted, but feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"You're right... maybe we're just over thinking this..." She finally said when she had regained her breath. Han was still going into an occasional snicker, but had mostly composed himself, enough that he eventually stood.

"Let's go ask Luke about it- it's probably nothing, but if he can't feel anything from the Force or whatever, then something might be up." Han had almost left the cockpit, but Leia's hand shot out and grabbed Han's wrist, abruptly.

"NO!" Her voice sounded shrill for the single syllable, but she calmed herself enough to speak reasonably even as Han turned around, shocked, "...No, Luke is the LAST person who should hear about this." Han frowned, but Leia continued, "Don't you remember what happened with that last incident? The day after it, when we went to talk to Luke, he didn't even remember that anything had happened, but that was the ONLY thing he'd forgotten, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened- we never figured out why he'd lost his memory, and only about those people. Han, if we tell Luke about it now, who knows what will happen..."

Han's questioning glance changed into an understanding one.

"...Mmm... maybe you're right... I never really cared that he didn't remember the other stuff, but that Luke forgot about the KID... I mean, I thought he'd be all broken up about it the way he'd been when the kid disappeared the first time, but it was as though the kid had never even existed, as far as Luke was concerned. Hell, Luke didn't remember the kid, but he still remembered other stuff, like the Rogue Squadron's missions and stuff like that..." Han paused for a moment, frowning, but Leia knew what he was thinking about.

"Well... that boy was technically Luke's first apprentice... I always thought that, since Luke blamed himself and couldn't stand the idea that he'd failed his student like that, he just repressed the memory... but now that you mention it, it was kind of strange." Leia agreed, "...Did you think of something?"

Han rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Really, I'd be happy to forget that any of it ever happened- just as long as I can sleep knowing the kid's not gonna... I dunno... come back for revenge from the grave or something like that." Han said. Leia sighed, but had very little to say to that, before the comm system buzzed. Leia let Han answer it, but when he was finished, he turned back to her, face pale.

"...We need to contact Luke and Jaina..." Han finally said, voice steady but obviously very worried about something. Leia frowned and blinked at him.

"...What is it about?" She asked. In response, Han sat down, avoiding her eyes.

"It's concerning past and present members of the Rogue Squadron." Han finally blurted out. Leia frowned, then the meaning hit her.

"...You don't mean..."

* * *

"So, remember Ben- stay in the house..."

"Do as her Excellency tells you..."

"The first time..."

"Don't pick fights with people you don't recognize..."

"Or even the people that you DO..."

"Don't eat anything that you can't pronounce..."

"And if you do recognize it, taste it first and if it tastes funny, don't swallow..."

"Don't talk to people you don't know..."

"And when you talk to people you DO know, be polite..."

"Or at least don't say anything that will make them mad..."

"And if someone pulls a blaster on you, duck, then run..."

"And if they catch you by the sleeve and it ignites, stop, drop, and roll..."

"MOM! DAD! I KNOW that, already."

For the past half-hour, Ben's parents had been giving him a list of very specific instructions for him to follow during his stay at the Countess' manor- for the first ten minutes, Ben had listened to them without complaining, even if the demands were unreasonable, if only because he understood the whole kidnapping dilemma had scared both his mother and father, quite badly. And, if the tales Jacen and Jaina had told him were anything close to the truth, this wasn't the first time they'd been through recovery missions that had been resolved poorly.

At least, this time, they were all getting out, and fast.

After fifteen minutes of such incredibly impossible instructions, such as 'You may not be alone with anyone for more than three consecutive seconds' and 'Test any and all foods you eat, even if they're a newly opened can of gelmeat that had been sealed and frozen for months, to be sure they aren't poisoned', Ben started to feel a little less patient about this.

Now, however, Ben was feeling a little more than resentful that his parents both had so little faith that he at least had the common sense to run away from danger, and so little trust in the Countess- he'd heard her say that he'd be well protected, just in case, but SERIOUSLY...

"Ben... We're just worried about you, okay?" Ben's father said, sternly, but kindly at the same time, "Keep in mind that, even by allowing you to donate a kidney, you still might not be helping if someone else kidnaps you or poisons you or in any way harms you- medically speaking, everything must be perfect for this to work."

Ben huffed and stuck out his lower lip, but said nothing. Even with that said, he didn't like being told what to do like this, but couldn't exactly say that to his father's face. He was spared the temptation when the comm system buzzed and his father turned away to answer it.

"Skywalker speaking."

"Hey, Luke." It was Uncle Han's voice on the comm, but none of the usual cheer that Ben normally heard. Oh, he was bright as ever, and his voice was still loud and boisterous, but Ben could sense something else- almost like Uncle Han was trying to speak in a different language and there was a strange accent tinging his voice.

"Han- didn't think we'd hear from you so soon. Whassa matter, miss us already?" Ben's mother asked, grinning. Ben heard his uncle laugh, but it was... shaky, nervous... strained, really. And, from what Ben could tell, his parents had heard it, too.

"Uncle Han, what's the matter?" Ben finally spoke up, almost hearing the look on his uncle's face as he realized Ben's parents weren't the only ones who could hear him.

"Ah... Ben... didn't know you were here, kid..." Uncle Han's voice sounded incredibly strained, now. Whatever he wanted to say, he DIDN'T want to say it. But Ben just frowned, and his father seemed to mirror the sentiment.

"Han, what IS the matter?" He asked, leaning in. Ben heard his uncle sigh.

"...I don't think Ben should hear this..." Uncle Han said, uneasily. Ben heard his mother huff.

"Ben's a big boy- he can deal with it." She said, snappishly. Ben blinked at his mother, almost surprised to hear her say that, especially considering that she'd been lecturing him not less than a minute ago about being safe while in the Countess's care. He felt... proud... that he was being recognized as something more than just a kid. That he wasn't a baby anymore.

Ben heard his uncle sigh.

"...Leia n' me got a message from the Chief just a moment ago..." Ben had this image of the Countess in his head saying 'Leia and I, Captain Solo', but the humor was banished as his uncle continued, "...It was concerning the Rogue Squadron and all past and present members..." Ben blinked, looking between his parents, whose faces had gone very pale. His unasked question was answered as his uncle sighed over the comm, "...Former Commander Tycho Celchu is dead."

Ben felt his knees buckle and his weight pull him down as he sat, heavily, on a chair. His mother wasn't moving. His father's face was hidden behind the high back of the chair.

Still, Ben knew there was something very, very wrong.

* * *

Upon seeing her Excellency on the landing platform, Mara knew something was up- if nothing else, the look on her face, which resembled a child pouting over the fact that their parent had outsmarted them in an argument, told Mara that the CMC was very put out about something. Whatever it was, Mara subtly kept herself between Ben and the woman before the speaking began.

"There were no problems in landing, I hope?" Mara finally asked when it became clear that the CMC was not going to speak. Her Excellency blinked for a moment, before regaining composure, and shaking her head.

"No, everything went smoothly in landing, Madame Skywalker." The Countess assured Mara, but she immediately paused, still frowning. Mara cocked her head a little, also frowning, but waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop.

"...But... something's still the matter, right?" She asked. The Countess sighed a little, but didn't dispute the fact that she was still bothered.

"...To be honest, it has to do with the request your husband made... but, for now, Jacci's been wondering when she'll see Sieur Ben, again, so..." Mara recognized the subtle hint and gave Ben a push, watching him go up the ramp of the CMC's ship, waiting until he was out of sight to turn back to the Countess.

"Spill." Mara finally said as she was sure Ben was well out of hearing range. The Countess made a noise that sounded suspiciously like snickering, but it was over in a moment.

"Madame Skywalker, might I inquire to what your blood type is?" She began. Mara frowned, but, considering that Luke's exact words had been 'In case another emergency comes up, it might be for the best if we know Ben's exact blood type so we can just do a simple transfusion', she had a rough idea of why the CMC was asking.

"It's type 1-2. Why do you ask?" Mara said, though, in hindsight, she probably hadn't needed to add on the question. Still, it made her nervous that this woman wanted to know, but the fact that it might have had something to do with Ben's health ruled out the idea of her lying or not telling, and either way, Mara never did feel comfortable unless she still had some sort of upper hand.

The CMC let out an aggravated sigh and even reached up to yank on a handful of her hair. Ooh, this couldn't be good...

"...As per Luke's request, I ran a test on Sieur Ben's blood type... but he came out as type 0." The Countess explained.

Mara blinked for a few moments, before considering the different possibilities. For one thing, the situation was both complicated and simplified by the fact that she was Ben's mother- a father might have had doubts if Ben was truly his child, but, having a clear memory of going into labor, Mara was more than certain that Ben was her son, which nixed the idea of Ben not actually being a blood relative. However, it didn't answer the question of HOW Ben was a different blood type than Mara, or at least type 1 or 2. Well, time to start questioning the method.

"You sure that you did the test right? I mean, you didn't contaminate any of the testing chemicals or use something that was too old and wouldn't work right any more?" Mara asked. The Countess looked even more frustrated than before.

"That was my initial thought- I ran three tests on his blood type, and broke into my back-up storage of testers... but they all kept coming out the same... So, I thought, maybe he got it from you- Luke would be type 0-1 or 0-2, and you would be something of a similar persuasion, so that would explain that... but this just ISN'T GENETICALLY POSSIBLE!" The Countess paused, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a box of pills, one of which she swallowed, quickly, but it was obvious she was still agitated about the situation.

Mara didn't entirely blame her.

"Madame Skywalker... when you were pregnant, did anything happen which might have effected your son's... development? Anything which might have caused other complications, which might make this procedure difficult?" The Countess asked, frowning. Mara sighed, rolled her eyes, and thought about it.

Well... yes, something HAD happened, but Mara didn't see how it could have affected Ben's GENETICS to the point that he would have a blank blood type... unless...

"When I was carrying Ben, I was infected with a disease- thus far, Ben hasn't had any medical problems, and for the most part, I was mostly worried that the virus would kill off any healthy eggs or ruin my organs. I don't see how it could give him a type 0 blood type, though..." Mara offered, not really caring to remember any of her painful days with the Yuuzuhan Vong virus. The Countess also seemed to understand, but was quick to offer an explanation.

"Unless what the virus did was kill off the antigens- From what I found, your son's blood type was a solid 0, no antigens whatsoever." It gave Mara pause, but she somehow doubted the actual possibility of such a phenomenon. Still, it was a theory, and until she could prove it not true, it was a good enough explanation.

"Mm... well, take care of Ben for Luke and myself- and if he comes back home with so much as a split hair..." The Countess, once again, remained unmoved by the threats, smiling cheerfully as she replied,

"Fear not- Gornash is exceedingly talented in cutting, trimming, and styling hair." Mara paused for a moment, before giving the CMC an unnerved glare.

"...That's... not a talent most men over sixty should be PROUD of..." She said, slowly. Her Excellency's lip curled.

"Only if said sixty-year-old man doesn't happen to be my valet." She replied. Mara gave the Countess's waist-length hair a dubious glance but refrained from comment.

"Okay... In a few weeks, then..." Mara conceded, turning to leave. She heard the Countess do the same, before a new thought occurred to her. Mara turned back, and called after the Countess's back,

"If you don't mind, what blood type is your sister?" Mara asked. The Countess stopped, dead-still, at the question.

"Suppose I DO mind?" Her reply was- from what Mara could tell, it was being made through perfectly clenched teeth. She ignored it.

"I don't care if you mind or not- I'm just gathering information, here." Mara rebutted, but the Countess continued to talk in that same annoyed tone.

"Madame Skywalker, you are reentering that tenuous ground of 'personal family matters that I want you to keep your nose the hell out of.'"

"You asked what MY blood type is. That's not something I usually discuss with strangers, even if they are certified medics. Now, talk."

The Countess remained perfectly still, but Mara heard her reply, still through perfectly clenched teeth.

"...Type 0..." She muttered. Mara felt a wicked grin split across her face, "Shut up." The Countess's voice was louder, and she immediately went back up the ramp to her ship, which immediately took off in the direction of the works, but Mara didn't care.

She had some good news to tell Luke when he asked his first 'Do you think Ben's really going to be okay?'

* * *

Jaina had a rough idea of where to start- she'd remembered her parents talking about dates and ages and events, even if they had been completely vague about EVERYTHING. Then again, Jaina had only heard their conversation- there could have been any number of other elements she was missing, not to mention that they were obviously talking about something that had happened before she'd even been born. In the proper context, of course a conversation like that would make sense.

But was it really worth all this concern?

Jaina calmed herself a moment, sitting at the computer terminal- already, she'd come so far to investigate, even going to the lengths of asking Tionne for access to her own files, but was still so far from any real answers. There was no reason to be looking, not from what she knew thus far. So her parents had some dirty little secret- big deal. It wasn't something Jaina really needed to pry into, she could just let it rest, and maybe, just maybe, life might go back to the semi-normal that Jaina was accustomed to, or at least one that was somewhat monotonous.

So why did Jaina just get this FEELING that she needed to pry?

Okay, that was a stupid question- the same reason she always knew when things were going wrong. Anytime something had been wrong in the galaxy, the Force always let her know. And it was definitely prodding her in the direction of finding an answer. But there was just... something else off about this whole situation. If Jaina had just heard her parents talking, she might have dismissed it, but maybe it was the whole circumstances surrounding the conversation she'd overheard. Any other time or place wouldn't have made it so ominous or curious.

Yeah. That had to be it.

In any case, it was time to start looking up records from 'Thirty years ago'. Jaina was fairly sure she would find at least some peace of mind in those records.

A/N: Um... yeah... Interesting story, but I got my first MP3 player about halfway through this chapter (for other Linux users who need an MP3 player and don't have one, head over to Best Buy- they are the greatest little toys, ever) Because I've been listening to it so much, I've kinda... well, not been able to write. And, honestly, I'm trying to get this all over with quickly so the action can restart. God, I HATE these kinds of filler chapters. Basically, everything here is foreshadowing and semi-flashbacking on the part of Han and Leia and kind-of Luke, as well as explaining why those three didn't immediately recognize the CMC for who this person is.

...Yeah... On the upshot- it's finally summer. I had my first day today that I DIDN'T need a sweater or long-sleeved shirt.


	20. Part II: Chapter 7

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

Chapter 7:

'And that's not the best part- Neh-Nii-Kah did some testings to be sure you'd be suitable to donate, and who you could donate to and all that, and she found out that you have the exact same blood type as-' Jacci's notepad was suddenly flipped up into the air, pen going with it as Ben jumped up and cheered, loudly. While he'd not read exactly who he had the same blood type as, Ben had a feeling that he knew who it was, anyway, given how Jacci was grinning like mad.

The attempted celebration was interrupted as someone in the doorway cleared their throat. Ben blinked- it was the Countess, whom Jacci's flying notepad had hit in the face. Ben looked sheepish and sat back down, trying not to snicker as the Countess handed the notepad back to her mute sister, whom had a similarly awkward smile on her face.

"I wouldn't count any chickens before they hatch, you two- there are still a number of things to be done before any surgery can be done, and even though you two are ideal donor matches, Jacci's body still might reject the transplant, or you could become sick in such a way that would damage your kidneys, or some other complication that would make it difficult." Ben heard the Countess' protests, but he and Jacci mostly ignored them, continuing their conversation on the paper and not noticing as the Countess left the room, knowing she wasn't wanted.

'What's the first thing you're going to do when you don't need the dialysis anymore?' Was Ben's first question. He could see Jacci's eyes gleaming, even as she wrote her response- her hands were shaking and the handwriting it produced was jittery and excited.

'Taste some of Uncle Gornash's tea. And then, taste some kind of junk food.'

Ben thought back to the one time he'd seen Jacci eat food under the Countess's supervision. Hot water and Nutrient Paste bars. Yeah- junk food was definitely a must-have.

'And then?' Jacci paused, tilted her head to consider, then grinned, quickly scribbling down an answer.

'Then, I'm going to cut off all the sleeves on my dresses and all the ruffles and lace so I can run around and get dirty and not care about it.' Jacci wrote, which gave Ben another moment of pause- he'd seen her in action just once in the cavern during the whole nightmarish kidnapping, but had never considered that it might have been a rare occurrence. Even if it had been, what must Jacci move like when she was healthy? She had never been healthy enough to be really active in the past, Ben knew from the little flashes of memory he'd seen, but would just a kidney transplant really change that so much?

'Neh-Nii-Kah's not going to let you out of bed for weeks- she'll make Uncle Gornash sit on you if that's what it takes, because she's always so paranoid that surgery might go wrong.' Jacci added as a warning, 'One time, Uncle Ouduar cut his finger while making paper dolls for me and Hiken. Neh-Nii-Kah wouldn't let him use his hand for a month and kept changing his bandages and acting like he was going to die or something. It was really gross, too.'

Ben blinked and tipped his head.

"Who's Uncle Ouduar?" Ben asked, folding his legs to his chest and rocking on his heels. Jacci blinked at him, but then grinned.

'Oh, right- you haven't met him yet. He's okay- mostly spends time with his mom because she's sick all the time. Kind of creepy, though- his eyes are all funny. And he says one thing but always does something completely the opposite. Like this one time, I asked him if he liked butterflies, because he's always drawing them and stuff, but he said something weird like he hated them for a really weird reason that wasn't the butterfly's fault, but either way... you know.' At this point, Jacci rolled her eyes. Ben was tempted to make a comment about how only a girl would ask about butterflies, but refrained- his bruises from the cracks he made over the sabaac fortune telling still hurt.

"What do you mean his eyes are funny. You mean like Mister Gornash?" Ben asked. Seriously, if he'd ever seen weird eyes, it was the Countess' steward, but even then... Jacci frowned, paused, then wrote a response, but seemed to still hesitate as she wrote, as though she just couldn't find the right words.

'No actually, his eyes are a lot like-' Jacci paused, chewed on the end of the pen for a moment, then continued writing, '-yours. But they're just... it's really the way that he looks at people, I guess. He just stares at people creepy. And sometimes, you can't see his eyes at all. That's the creepiest.'

Ben blinked at Jacci for a moment. This 'Uncle Ouduar' had eyes that looked like HIS? Did that mean they were blue or were they just shaped the same way, or did he make the same expressions with his eyes like Ben did? And how could eyes NOT look the same. They were probably just blue eyes- Ben had never really seen how original you could get with eyes, since they were all pretty much the same no matter what you looked at...

Well, okay, scratch that- Jacci was a bit of an exception, but a third eye in the back of the head... that was different than other eyes. And even then, Ben had seen it only once, but Jacci's third eye was mostly normal, just like other eyes. There wasn't anything weird about it.

Right?

"Hey Jacci... when you wash your hair, do you have to wear some sort of eye-patch or something to keep soap from getting in that eye of yours or something?"

It was only when Ben woke up and found himself staring at a strange ceiling in a room he didn't recognize that it occurred to him exactly how hard Jacci must have punched him.

"...I'm coming to the conclusion that women are dangerous creatures..." He muttered to nobody in particular. At least, that's what he thought until he heard someone chuckle. Ben blinked a few times, then turned his head to the side, enough to see that the Countess was in the doorway, peeling black silk gloves onto her hands.

"Yes, it would certainly seem that way." She said, still smiling. Ben blinked at her for a moment, before frowning.

"...What...?" He started, but trying to put together a question hurt his head, and there were so many things he wanted to ask that thinking about all of them made him dizzy. The Countess relieved him by beginning to talk and take his mind off of it.

"You're at the house- this is one of the guest rooms, with a fresher and toilet adjoined, and the kitchen just a floor down. If you get lost, there's a bell-shaped pipe in every room that you can talk to anyone else in the house through and someone will be able to give you step-by-step directions to whereever you need to go, probably Gornash, or possibly myself if I'm not busy. And, after the surgery and during your recovery, if you need any assistance, there's a chord right next to your bedside. Pull it and somebody will come- I don't want you out of bed for any reason other than bathing until the cut heals up."

Well, it certainly answered several questions. And, honestly, Ben was happy to know that at least everyone was going to be okay. Still, he was leery of the idea of staying in bed for... how long had Jacci predicted? Weeks? Oh, that was NOT going to be fun...

"Um... can I get out of bed NOW?" He asked, timidly. After all, if he was going to be okay, he wasn't going to waste time in bed when there was running around and goofing off to be done.

The Countess's look turned serious.

"Absolutely, if you are to be coming along." The Countess said, firmly. Ben frowned, but sat up. The world spun a little, but not enough that he couldn't sit up or stand. He put his feet on the floor, still staring at the Countess with curiosity.

"Coming along? You mean like, leaving the house on an errand or something?" Ben asked. The Countess tossed him his shoes, which had obviously been removed, as he could feel the cold floor on his toes.

"Business- a customer requested we make a house call." The Countess explained. Ben stared at his shoes like he didn't know what they were for, before his brain seemed to fully wake up and realize the reason the Countess had given him his shoes back was probably because he was supposed to put them on. He slid his right foot into the left one, and fastened it.

"Eeh? I didn't know you did that... and why do you want me to come with you?" Ben asked, wiggling his toes around and trying to put his right shoe on his left foot, all the while wondering why his right foot was so uncomfortable.

"Because it's important that you be there to see what happens. You'll understand when we get there, so for now, put your shoes on the right feet and let's go." Ben looked down at his feet and then rolled his eyes.

"So that's why it was hurting..." He muttered to himself, before the Countess's words registered, "Wait... this customer wasn't Uncle Han or Mom or someone like that, was it?" He asked. The Countess raised an eyebrow, but shook her head, seriously.

"No- I wouldn't have listened even if they HAD called with such a request. But do hurry- he sounded very urgent when he contacted me." She said. Ben blinked, forced his brain into working order, and put his shoes on properly. The Countess walked out of the doorway as soon as he had them buckled, which made him have to jog a little to be sure he didn't fall behind.

"Who?" He asked.

"Edmond Dantes."

* * *

A/N: Awww... you all probably thought I'd forgotten about them, didn't you? I've been waiting to do this little arc for a while now. I'm glad I'm finally getting to it.

* * *

Ben tried not to fidget in the back seat of the Countess's coach, stomach feeling like someone had put a live spider inside it and just left it to spin it's web. There was a distinct feeling of unease on the trip out to the house call, and Ben was fairly convinced it wasn't because the Countess would probably be dealing with a pregnant, sick woman.

He just felt... what was a good word for it? Queer, to use the Countess's expression, that he was in the coach with her, heading to this call when it really wasn't any of his business, nor did he have any right to be coming. Even if the Countess HAD insisted... he still out of place. Why exactly did she think he needed to be present? And what, precisely, was he supposed to be learning from this event?

The hover coach came to a halt and the door opened a moment later, held by the Countess' valet, along with an umbrella. Ben blinked for a moment, even as he climbed out of the seat. It was only once he got out into the open air that he realized it was frigid. He hadn't even noticed that it had started raining.

The apartment that the hover coach had pulled next to was very bland in simple grays- not bad, but at the same time, it was probably only moderately livable inside. Then again, this was the Financial District- bankers and their kin probably didn't lead even a remotely lavish lifestyle. Why would a mere teller live in anything close to that kind of luxury? Then again, at least the building looked safe- Ben didn't see any loose beams or holes in the walls. And, really, remembering the last, and only time he'd even seen the Countess's client, Dantes had been homeless. This bland, sparse piece of property was probably heaven for him and his sister.

The Countess strode past Ben and promptly knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by the same young man that Ben had only seen once on his first visit to the Countess' house.

Edmond Dantes was no longer scrawny the way he had been, but still nowhere near what Ben would have pegged as a healthy weight. Then again, having a sick relative was probably stressful enough to make even a fat man slimmer. His face was still square, but fuller in the cheeks and chin than before, and his skin was olive-tanned but pale from being indoors so much recently. And, seeing him face-to-face like this, Ben realized either how very tall Dantes was, or how very short he, Ben, was.

"Excellency, you're prompt." Dantes muttered, though it was quite obvious that he was more than pleased about this. The Countess took off her hat, which Dantes took as a sign to open the door further and let them in. Ben watched the Countess for some cue, but she wasn't looking back at him, so eventually, Ben had to step inside as Gornash returned to the car, presumably to wait.

The inside of the apartment was just as bland, but well-lit and with the essentials for living on such a planet as Coruscant. The floors were tan, the ceiling and walls white, and any furniture gray. There was a kitchen immediately to the left, while the main room was a perfect square, 5 by 5 meters, with a table and three chairs over in the corner by the larger of two windows in the room.

And then, there was a door leading to what could only be a bedroom. And it was that room that Dantes led the Countess and Ben towards.

Inside, a mere set-up of a single mattress and an alarm timepiece on the side comprised what was the bed. Curled up on it under the blankets was a young girl who could only be Dantes' sister, even if Ben couldn't see her face until her brother shook her awake and bade her to sit up. Mercedes Dantes looked very similar to her brother, except for her darker shade of hair that hung down to her waist. Her own olive colored skin was pale, but with illness rather than lack of sun, with a small, black dot by the corner of her mouth. Even her lips were pale, almost cream colored. It would have been pleasant if it wasn't so obvious she was ill.

Her stomach was also very, very round. Ben felt sick just looking at it, but whether this was out of the discomfort of contemplation or real pain because of his empathy, he wasn't sure.

"Mercedes, this is the woman who helped me before when we needed to see a doctor. You needn't be scared of her- she's going to help." Dantes was reassuring his sister, helping her as she sat up. Mercedes nodded, just a little, but it was more to signify that she had heard her brother speak. Then, in a moment, she started to shudder.

The Countess crossed the room and was at her side in a single stride.

"Selle Dantes, are you going to be ill or is there something else wrong?" She asked, pulling on a pair of medical gloves and tying her hair back. Mercedes shook her head, slightly, then put on hand on her round belly.

The Countess began her work immediately, helping Mercedes to lay back down on her back. Ben shifted a little nervously, but watched. Maybe this was something about medical procedures, or caring for the sick, or how babies were made... yeah- why else would the Countess drag him along on this? Had to be that...

The Countess looked up and frowned at Ben and Dantes still standing in the room, watching.

"What do you two think you're doing?" She demanded. Ben blinked and Dantes looked sheepish.

"...Watching?" Ben guessed. This was apparently the wrong answer, because the Countess drew herself up to her full height- all 147 centimeters of it- and immediately drove them out, even opting to 'Shoo' them, finally slamming the door to the bedroom shut.

Okay... so, not the medical stuff, then...

Well... what WAS it, then?

"You..." Ben jumped about a foot in the air as Dantes spoke to him. Ben turned, cautiously, and saw Dantes giving him the most imperious look that Ben thought he'd ever see- and given the looks his mother, father, aunt, uncle, cousins, and now, members of the Countess' household had given him, that was saying something. Ben swallowed, nervously, then did his best to smile, if only to prove to himself that he wasn't scared.

"What are you doing here?" Ben blinked at Dantes for a moment, before doing his best to reply.

"Eh-heh-heh... Um... I'm... kind of an... apprentice, I guess you could say... eh-heh..." Ben scratched the back of his head, the entire bottom half of his face stuck in a smile but the top half in a nervous twitch. Dantes' expression didn't change.

"How old ARE you?" He asked. Ben chuckled a little more, his stomach feeling like it was suddenly digesting itself.

"Um... well, eight... but I'm trying to learn this stuff early on so I can... um... well, you know..." Inside, Ben knew that was a load of crap, but didn't care- he couldn't really explain why the Countess had brought him along, and trying to do so to a complete and total stranger whose home he was, essentially intruding on, would only make matters worse.

Dantes didn't seem impressed.

"You want to become a medic?" He asked, slowly. Ben kept grinning, even though he was quaking in his shoes. He'd never really thought about it, actually- for most of his childhood, he'd really focused more on being like his Uncle Han or like Jacen, but to be a medic... that was something that nobody in the family had ever really done. Then again, it was something that his parents had never done, either- both of them were fighters, warriors to the end. Maybe that's why it seemed so interesting to be a doctor or healer- to set himself apart from his parents, as his own person.

"Ah... hah..." He managed, "...I mean... it's a good thing to do... to help other people and... um... when someone's injured, to... um... make sure they don't get worse... and... and... stuff..." Dantes was still staring at him, critically. It was as though, by so much as mentioning the subject, Ben had made himself an enemy of Edmond Dantes and anyone of his ilk.

"You really are such a child." He said, quietly. Ben felt a shiver go up his back and something from his empathy was hammering inside his head, except this time, he'd heard it plain and clear in Dantes' voice without any help. Disdain. And antimosity. Ben did his best not to look away or back down, but it was damned hard with that cool, contemptuous glare that Dantes was giving him. But really, it was the words, the mere accusation of being childish that made Ben feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"...Wha- What do you mean by that?" Ben asked, cautiously. He felt indignant, and angry, he was sure, but there was also the impression he got from Dantes at the moment that expressing that anger in a direct, forward fashion as he was accustomed to doing would be a very bad move. For some reason, even though he could tell Dantes wouldn't do any real harm, he still felt incredibly fragile being alone in the same room as this man. Dantes didn't answer, so Ben let out a bit of a sigh, looking at the door and wondering what the Countess was doing in there.

"In any case, didn't you ask the Countess to come here? If you don't like medics so much, why invite HER to your apartment, just like that?" Ben pressed, folding his arms behind his back and leaning against the wall, trying to make it look like he was comfortable and casual. Dantes made an unpleasant noise that sounded distinctly like a snarl in the back of his throat, before thumping down onto the floor, facing the opposite direction.

"That woman is different." He said. Ben blinked at Dantes for a moment, wondering if there was some specific reason he trusted her despite his seeming detestation for medics. Though, thinking about it- the Countess really was different from other people, wasn't she? She didn't follow any standards or norms of any kind of culture, didn't keep to anyone's law but her own, was completely unaffected by how others acted towards her, and even seemed to change how others reacted when she was merely present in the room. If even Edmond Dantes was willing to change his opinions of medics because of the CMC, Ben couldn't say he was surprised.

Well, that all made sense. It was enough that Ben relaxed and was completely unprepared for the next words that came out of Dantes' mouth.

"She understands medicine and uses it- she's not necessarily a medic by my standards, though." Ben gave Dantes an exasperated look of disgust. O-kay... not exactly what he was thinking...

Ben was quiet for a long moment before looking away, awkwardly, then glancing back at Dantes, briefly.

"Um... if you don't mind... why DID you ask the Countess to come here, anyway? I thought that you could afford to take your sister to real doctors now..." Ben said, and when Dantes gave him one of those imperious looks, he continued to stare in the opposite direction, "...I mean... you can pay for medicine and check-ups, now... I thought..."

Dantes snorted with equal disgust.

"I thought so, too." He muttered. Ben blinked, quietly. There were plenty of things he could think of to say, but something was telling him to keep his trap shut- saying something would make this worse, more difficult to sit through.

Ben kept blinking at him for a moment, before Dantes grimaced, looking out the window at the rain that was streaming down the panes of glass. Ben sighed a little, wishing that he was anywhere but this place. Hell, even being back with his parents, with them trying to covertly pressure him into becoming a Jedi or at the Temple itself, with every other former apprentice of his father's sending him disappointed, but understanding glances... even those places would be better than this.

Dantes stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Let's go outside- it's stuffy in here." Ben jumped at the unusual request, but pushed himself away from the wall. Given how this was, really, Dantes' home, it only seemed appropriate that he do as he was told under the roof.

Outside was much less stuffy, but much colder, and the ledge provided by the walkways over their heads did very little to stop the rain from sneaking out and still occasionally dripping onto them. Still, it was better than standing out in the middle of the storm. The silence between them was somehow even more chilling than the actual rain and cold air, if only because it was so awkward and Ben was getting the impression that nothing would give Dantes more pleasure than to push him right off the edge.

Ben swallowed, nervously, and searched around for a topic. In the end, all he could think of was the weather.

"...It's not normally this cold in the summer, even for a rainy day." He finally said. Dantes merely snorted. Ben swallowed hard and continued, "Still, I'm glad you and your sister at least have a place to stay on a day like this... with a roof over your heads instead of just a crate on the shipping docks or something... but, still, there are other people out there in this... I hope they can at least find a restaurant or shop or something to go into until the rain stops... and that they have some way to keep warm for afterwards."

Ben was too busy looking in the other direction that he didn't see Dantes turn his gaze back on Ben. After a moment, though, Ben could sense that someone was staring at him and turned back. Dantes turned to look in the opposite direction so quickly that Ben didn't even realize it had been him.

"All those medics..." Dantes started talking so abruptly that Ben jumped, "All those medics... I took Mercedes to her first check-up... I was so excited, thinking that she would never have to get sick again or wait through those long hours of pain without anything to ease it... I thought she might be healthy for once." Dantes breathed in, deeply, "Then, she came out of the room, crying. The medic refused to treat her the moment he found out she was just fourteen and unmarried. He said that 'It was a sin' for her to be... Like it was her fault."

Ben felt his jaw drop, along with the very center of his forehead.

"...E-Eh? Wait, you mean, the medics who were supposed to treat your sister refused to do it, even though you paid for everything?" Ben asked, not quite sure he could understand that. After all, if someone could afford the medicine, then they could have it- that was a basic fact, one that even Ben understood. If you paid for something and weren't given what you paid for, then that was stealing.

"It wasn't so much that they refused to help her even though they were paid... it was more that they refused to take the money, so they weren't unjustified in not treating her..." Dantes clenched his hand into a fist, "...It's as though there's suddenly a new set of rules that never existed before... that they can just refuse to let someone in, even though they need help..."

"...I used to think that... if you had money, you could have anything you wanted. For so long, everything was completely out of my reach because I didn't have money. If my sister or myself ever got hungry, we had to dig through someone else's garbage for scraps. If we were ever cold, we had to steal something to wear. If I cut myself or if she hurt her leg or anything like that, we had to mostly make due with whatever we could find in the trash and just resting a lot and hoping our bodies would heal themselves. And if we got sick... well, hope was the only medicine we had."

Ben hadn't ever really thought about that- he'd always grown up well-fed, clothed, and sheltered, and it had never really occurred to him that someone might not have those kinds of things... or, at least, not to the point they'd have to eat out of someone else's garbage.

Then again... There was that chill again- that feeling of dread and pain and fear that came in through the channel that Ben knew was his empathy coming into play. And, for some reason, the feelings coming off of Dantes at this precise moment felt so very... well... like he'd felt them before, and so many times before that they already had a special place reserved just for themselves inside Ben's head.

_This is what war feels like._

Ben started a little, then shook his head, trying to clear it of whatever had put that thought in his head.

"Finally getting a job and getting money... I thought maybe Mercedes could have a different kind of life. I wanted her to have that kind of life. So, I just thought that if I worked hard enough, she could have anything she wanted or needed." Dantes made that noise again that Ben now realized was coming from his jaws instead of his throat or chest, "...But... just because you have money doesn't mean anything- anyone can have money. Just because you give somebody money doesn't mean they'll give you what you want in return... and people just accept that... they just say that I must have done something wrong..."

Ben continued to blink, not quite sure what to say to that, but feeling incredibly sick inside. Pity? No, not really... it was more of... Ben didn't want to call it understanding, because he DIDN'T... but maybe it was for the general feeling, the anger and shame and utter desperation, but not exactly because he'd experienced the same feelings himself. Or, perhaps, it was a kind of understanding that came because, even though he hadn't lived through anything nearly the same as this, he understood how serious the situation was, how dire the offense committed was. Comprehension, perhaps? And combined with the emotional empathy that came from that comprehension?

"It wasn't Mercedes' fault that that scum, whoever he was, took her and used her like that. Why does SHE have to pay for someone else's mistake? First, the man who left her like this, and now, the medics who won't even lift a finger to help? And I can't even DO anything about it! But Mercedes is the one who has to suffer for it..." Dantes slammed a fist into the wall, so viciously that Ben subtly inched away from him, just in case it was the hand closer to Ben that made itself a fist next time.

"...It... it isn't fair, is it?" Ben muttered, though, more to himself. His head was buzzing and his ears were ringing, and he could almost hear the sound of boots clicking behind him and a mechanized breath, even though his back was against the wall, "...That people assume things like that... It really does..." What was a good word for it? The way that other people would draw their own conclusions without knowing the whole truth, or knowing that much about the person? The way that everyone assumed they knew better, and that everyone else who thought differently was just a fool? "...Suck..."

Even though his head wouldn't sit still, Ben somehow felt a kind of clarity, like the swirling, spinning thoughts and ideas in his head were suddenly given a channel and direction to go in, instead of just spinning around and around, uselessly. And, while he was thinking about what Dantes had just said, he was remembering something very different. Little snippets of memories from younger years... the looks his aunt sometimes gave him, the way Jaina and Jacen were so anxious to be close, the way that his mother sometimes paused and didn't say things that he thought she wanted to say... and that inexplicable feeling that somehow, everyone was whispering about him behind his back, just because he was Ben Skywalker.

"'Msorry." Ben's mouth was moving on it's own, forming its own words, but he really didn't care- actually, he was kind of glad his voice had somehow gained a life of it's own, so that he didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed of this, "...There isn't really anything I can do to help... but I'm sorry you have to go through it..."

Dantes merely continued to stare, as though he wasn't quite sure what to think about Ben, frowning only slightly but all the tension and dislike in the air completely evaporated.

"There is something you can do, actually." The Countess' voice chimed in. Ben and Dantes both jumped about three feet apart with rather comical reactions, neither entirely sure when the Countess had come into their conversation, nor how she'd done so without making so much as a sound when the door had been shut.

"C-C-Countess..." Ben stammered, still unsure of how she'd just seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Dantes recovered a bit more quickly.

"Excellency... you're finished for today?" He said, though his voice was shaky. The Countess smiled, cheerfully.

"Indeed- your sister is progressing just fine, though I expect the delivery date would be within a month, at least. And I'd also recommend that you find some sort of Folic Acid supplement for her." The Countess said, opening the door to the apartment and holding it for the two to follow her inside. Ben waited for Dantes to pass by before trotting in on the heels of the other two. Mercedes was sitting at the table, staring out at the rain, but still looking sickly pale.

"Another thing I'd recommend is that you make a point to be sure she's getting enough protein, iron, and vitamin B12. The deficiency is probably the cause for her pallor, but beyond that, she's perfectly in good health." The Countess continued. Both Dantes' listened to this with keen ears, but any response was halted as Mercedes started to cringe and put a hand on the swell below her ribcage. The Countess strode over and carefully lifted Mercedes' hand to feel the exact same spot.

Ben could practically hear her brother tense, until the Countess let out a relieved sigh.

"That's natural- the baby is merely kicking. That's all." She took her hand away, then turned to Dantes to talk about the living arrangements of his sister, but Ben didn't listen. He was staring at Mercedes, or more specifically, at her stomach.

She'd felt the unborn child kicking. Part of Ben felt like something was kicking his stomach from the inside, but that was something very different. It wasn't illness or his empathy or anything like that, but it was definitely an unpleasant sensation that told him something important. The most important of which was that this was probably not the first time, nor the last, that Mercedes would feel that kind of pain. Then, coming from that fact, the thought occurred to Ben whether or not this was an unusual case. If, perhaps, every mother awaiting birth could feel her child moving inside of her.

Then, for the briefest of moments, he had the faintest impression of being held by something so much bigger than he was, as though surrounded on all sides by something warm and all-encompassing, protecting him and hearing a distant, constant, rhythmic thump in his ear. And the moment it was gone, a flash of hurt and bitterness took it's place, before also being swept away.

"Now, with all that cleared up, I'll send someone to check on you two every day- if something unforeseen happens and she goes into labor early, I want to be notified immediately." The Countess finally seemed to conclude in her discussion with Dantes, whom was still visibly agitated, though obviously not because of any distrust or doubt.

"...No... no, Excellency, I don't wish to cause any trouble or burden..." He stammered, and Ben could see his face going pink in the cheeks. The Countess continued to smile that fox-faced grin of hers, batting away his concerns with a hand.

"No, it would be no trouble at all." And then, Ben heard the Countess clap her hands and gesture towards himself, "Sieur Ben will be delighted to be of assistance."

Dantes turned his gaze on Ben, looking singularly unimpressed, before the words registered in Ben's brain.

"EEEHH?!"

* * *

"Why did I get volunteered for this without even being asked, first?" Ben sulked as the Countess cheerfully smiled into the rainy sky, somehow or another looking for her coach despite her eyes being squinted shut.

"Because you're the only person who I have available to do it- Gornash is on call every day of every week, Suna will kill the three of them before she helps them, Tilus needs to stay with Haid, whom can't leave the house under her own steam or even stand on her own two feet, Jacci will be getting ready for the operation, Hiken is barely a year old, and everyone else already has their duties to see to."

Well, that was all very well and good, but...

"...BUT I'M NOT A MEMBER OF YOUR HOUSEHOLD! WHY DID YOU JUST..." The Countess stopped Ben's shouting by grabbing his lips with her fingers and pulling them away into a fish-face, still wearing that same foxy grin.

"Because you OWE me for all the times I saved your sorry hide from your parent's ire, the dislike of my own servants, and this most recent kidnapping incident." She reminded him in a voice that made Ben's insides quake.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around, lately...

"GOR-NA-ASH! WE'RE OVER HE-ERE!" The Countess' attitude changed completely in an instant as she waved at the approaching coach and called in a sing-song voice. In a moment, the black vehicle had pulled up exactly next to where they were standing without so much as a centimeter to spare for either Ben or the Countess to climb into the backseat.

As the door opened, Ben heard Gornash's voice come from the driver's position.

"Milady, you shouldn't shout like that- it's unbecoming for you." The Countess blithely ignored her valet's suggestion, childishly climbing into the backseat, making herself comfortable, and swinging her legs as she cheerfully invited Ben to climb in, which he did so after recovering from the shock.

The drive home was spent in uncomfortable silence between the two of them, mostly as Ben was still huffy over being pushed into a volunteer duty that he hadn't, actually, volunteered for. After a long, uncomfortable few minutes- how long did it take to get back to the Works, anyway?- the Countess started up a conversation.

"What were you and Sieur Dantes talking about that was so engrossing?" She asked. Ben sent her a glare, then looked away, not wanting to talk about it. He kept staring out the window for an excuse not to discuss the rather unpleasant conversation, or rather, confiding, that had transpired between himself and Dantes.

There were several reasons for his discomfort, the first of which was that he didn't understand it, and that made him distinctly nervous. Or maybe, it wasn't that he didn't UNDERSTAND... maybe a better way to say was he couldn't comprehend the possibility of such a thing happening. Yet, all the same, it was being shoved into his face, impossible to ignore.

That... bothered him... greatly.

Of course, there was part of his brain that was insisting it was wrong, that Dantes and his sister alone were being pushed aside. That it couldn't possibly be allowed to go on, that the law wouldn't let it happen if they knew. After all, it would be like refusing to... refusing to let someone into a store or restaurant, just because you didn't feel like it. That wasn't allowed- if someone could pay for what they bought and did so, you did it.

Right?

"Countess, if you pay somebody for their services, they have to do what they're paid for, right?" Ben asked, quietly. After all, he knew almost nothing about business, so there might be something he was missing.

"Of course. Failure to meet on one end disturbs the balance. One could, of course, refuse... but they probably won't live long enough to regret it." The Countess agreed. Ben sighed a little.

"And you couldn't just say to someone 'I don't want your money' or refuse to let them in or... anything like that, right?" Ben asked, feeling a little more sure. The Countess' response was not so prompt.

"Well, that would really depend- given the business I run, anybody could, in theory, come to me with any request. There are, naturally, some that I could and would refuse." The Countess amended. Ben felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the Countess elaborated, "For example, if someone came to me and said 'My Wish is that this person die', I naturally would refuse. Anything that can be considered directly causing someone harm simply will not be accepted by me."

Ben relaxed, feeling stupid for being so nervous in the first place.

"Beyond that, however, yes. I could not just say 'Keep your money- I refuse to grant your Wish.'" She continued, "It's that way for everyone in the service industry. If you make a pledge to help people, you cannot refuse a customer or client or however you address them. Even with a job that brings discomfort, the priority is about the customer, and what they want. On the occasion that they might want something that is not in their best interests, the most service providers are allowed to do is inform their customer of the mistake they're making and trust on their client to make the best decision from that point on. And if the customer choses the option which would still bring them harm, then the service provider must go through with it. That's the basic oath all who work in services take."

The Countess' eyes weren't unfocused as they usually were during her lectures. Ben blinked a little then followed her line of sight, but she was only staring at the back of the driver's seat.

There was a long, auspicious silence.

"S-so... if, say, a doctor didn't feel comfortable performing... well, let's say, hypothetically, he didn't want to do an examination... he'd still have to do it, right?"

The Countess' reply was, once again, delayed.

"Hypothetically, yes, he must still perform, even if he does not wish to. In actuality, however, there is nothing forcing him to." Ben blinked, then made a confused noise. For the first time since he'd started learning from the Countess' lectures, he really didn't understand what she meant by those words, "Morals and ethics might dictate one thing, but the law does not necessarily coincide with those principles."

Oh.

Ben looked out the window again. For some reason, the rain seemed to be coming down even harder than before, making a thunderous noise as it hammered against the windows and on the roof. The noise was so loud that Ben wondered, for a brief moment, if the roof was somehow paper-thin and liable to give way at any moment.

The Countess let out a sigh.

"Gornash, you can stop circling and head back to the House, now- Hiken's probably in hysterics with all this water." She said. Ben felt his face warp into a displeased expression again, the thought 'I knew it' going through his mind.

"Yes, Milady."

* * *

"In any case, Sieur Ben, you recall that woman who was my customer a few weeks ago..." The Countess continued. Ben yawned and stretched- it had been hard for him, today, with so much to think about, but he wasn't really tired in the sense that he wanted to go to bed. Really, it was more like his brain was tired.

Recalling the woman who had jumped from the walk way to fulfill her Wish only made his brain ache for rest.

"...Ah... I remember." Ben, said, slowly. The Countess had her back to him, even as Gornash helped her out of her coat.

"I did what I could- I told her that I could either fulfill her Wish, or bring her happiness. In the end, she chose the option that ultimately led to her own destruction. I didn't like knowing that I'd played a hand in it, nor the idea that she would throw herself away for something like that. But, in the end, we are the only ones who can know what we want. We might not know what's good for us, or what will truly make us happy in the long run, but we can decide what we want to have happen, whether it's happiness or unhappiness. After that, everything else is in the hands of fate."

Ben stared at the Countess, quietly, while his mind replayed the very day that he'd seen that woman come to the Countess for help. But, instead of thinking about the transaction, he remembered the conversation he and the Countess had been having about empathy just moments before...

He had said 'Then, I'll be that spark'. He'd said that, thinking that he could do something to help... in the end, wasn't what the Dantes' were going through the same problem? Because other people weren't able to understand or care what Dantes was living with or the pain his sister had to bear?

_There is something you can do._

Ben didn't notice that the Countess was looking at him until he heard her squeal. Ben jumped, then looked out the window, as she was. The rain was still coming down, harsh as ever, and in the clouds, Ben could see lightning jumping from cloud to cloud in little spurts... but instead of being steely gray and stormy blue, they were tainted orange and gold, as the sun shone clearly and brightly through a gap in the cloud cover.

"It's a sun-storm!" She said, almost in awe. Ben kept blinking at it.

"...Ah... That's rare..." He muttered, but doubted his words were heard as the Countess rushed past him and out the door, onto the roof-less balcony where she proceeded to run in circles, slip and fall flat on her back. The most that Ben could manage to do was stand there and stare at her, with the thought 'This woman is... the CMC?' echoing in his head.

"You did very well today." Gornash said over him, solemnly. Ben didn't jump with surprise, but did frown at the non-sequitur.

"Eh?"

"Milady wishes for you to know that." Gornash confirmed. Already, he was holding a new pair of clothes for the Countess in his arms, except they looked like a pair of pajamas that someone had made out of aluminum foil or the silver backing of a mirror. Ben kept blinking, mostly wondering why Gornash was saying that, before the valet continued, "She also instructed me to give you directions to the Dantes' apartment for tomorrow. She asks that you leave at nine hundred hours, sharp. Be sure to arrive there at ten hundred, no later. Also, someone will accompany you to be sure no harm comes to you while she is unable to be by your side. Kindly keep within a meter of them, only eat what they have tested for you first, and do not argue or disobey if they give you a command including, but not limited to, 'Get down', 'Run', 'Duck', etc."

Ben felt his eyebrow twitching.

"...Why are YOU telling me this?" He finally asked. Gornash blinked at Ben, almost blandly, before saying, simply,

"Milady didn't want to listen to you argue with her if she'd given you this list, herself."

Ben felt his jaw drop with indignation.

* * *

"I always admired the Countess but as a business woman she's... how do I say this...?" Ben mused, deliberately grumbling out loud as he entered the steamy bathroom. It was the first time he'd ever seen a tub this big- really, it was more of a pool than anything, but still shallow enough that he probably wouldn't need to know how to swim to soak. It had been on Gornash's recommendation, as hot water supposedly made it easier for one to sleep soundly if soaked in for an hour. That would be a nice ending to the day, given how uncomfortable things had been with the stony silence between him and the Countess for the rest of the evening. And then, immediately after dinner, he'd given his parents a call on the holonet to tell them he was okay, an altogether uncomfortable conversation which had ended with him awkwardly mumbling 'Um, Mom? I love you.' and quickly hanging up to avoid anymore awkward, tense, silence.

Ben set down the towels and pajamas he'd brought with him on the only chair that was visible in the room through all the steam, still mumbling to himself.

"...Selfish, or something like that..." Ben finally concluded, finding the right word.

"Ah, that person is, indeed." A voice agreed.

A/N: A-and... I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

For those of you who are wondering, yes- there is a law that says doctors can opt out of treating their patients if they don't feel comfortable doing it. This includes even giving the annual physical examinations, but, for some ODD (not really) reason, it's only women whose health benefits are really affected by this. In case you can't tell, I'm kind of peeved about this. Please excuse all the blatant bias and the rant that I used the Countess to vent on my behalf.

But, really, it is important to the story. Keep in mind that, if Ben sees one of the Countess' 'Jobs', chances are, there's something to be learned and you probably should remember it.


	21. Part II: Chapter 8

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

A/N: For the more astute, 'Gottesfurcht' is German for 'God-fearing'. Think about it.

I'm watching just about any anime in which Jun Fukuyama played a voice role. That's why Ben's format of speaking has changed so much. (And why he keeps going 'Eeh?') Actually, because I've been listening to so many people speaking in Japanese, that's why most EVERYONE'S speech has changed, such as how people will say 'That person' or 'That woman' instead of names or pronouns, and why everyone might say weird stuff like 'I'll do my best' or 'It's been such a long time' or other stuff like that. Sorry for screwing with everything so much, but it's my muse...

Speaking of muses (last note, I promise) I was thinking 'Something's been missing from this story'. Then, I went to see 'Wall-E'. There will be more Artoo and Threepio.

Chapter 8:

Leia was taken aback by her old friend's appearance. Her expression was just as vacant and bland as ever, but everything else seemed so... off. Leia had never seen Winter look disheveled or tired or... or lost. Her hair wasn't done correctly, her makeup hadn't been put on at all, and she was wearing a plain, black dress that didn't suit her at all. And, even though Winter was the utter portrait of stoicism and calm, Leia could see that she was holding so many emotions in. It was something in the way she was standing- she was utterly erect and stiff, like a soldier to attention, which was the surest sign of Winter reverting to her role as an intelligence agent. Leia hadn't seen her do that off the clock since Winter's marriage...

Then again... Tycho was the only person Leia had ever seen Winter become emotional for. Losing him... must have been quite a blow.

Winter didn't even meet Leia's eyes as Leia started towards her. That alone made Leia feel utterly miserable on her friend's behalf, as though something was saying that tears needed to be shed on this occasion and if Winter couldn't or wouldn't do that, then someone had to in her place.

"Winter..." Leia finally said. Winter didn't look up, but accepted it as Leia strode over and gave her a friendly hug, even going so far as to hug back, still pretending everything was fine, "You're going to be fine..." The words were hollow and false, but just saying something seemed to help- either way, the awkward silence was somehow more disturbing than anything else.

"...I know." Winter finally said. Her voice was perfectly smooth and even, but Leia knew that it was just the way Winter was. Tycho had helped her open up and express herself, helped Winter grow comfortable with her emotions, helped her confront them instead of suppressing them all the time... and now, he was gone.

"If there's anything I can do, just tell me, okay?" Leia muttered. Winter said nothing for a long, long moment, but Leia waited, patiently.

After all, what were friends for?

* * *

"_So, you'll remember to be careful, and call us when the operation is over?" Mara confirmed, trying to sound as stern as she possibly could over the comm. As Ben couldn't see her face, it would have to do._

"_Ah. I'm doing my best, at any rate." Ben's reply didn't sound as exasperated as before. If anything, he almost sounded edgy, as though afraid of offending her. That... was one thing Ben had NEVER been._

"_Ben... are you really okay?" Luke asked, leaning on Mara's shoulder to speak into the comm. Ben made a vague noise to signify he was, but it didn't inspire confidence._

"_Some things... just happened today that... um... really made me think. And they were all... kind of weird, too." Ben offered. Somehow, Mara didn't believe that was the whole truth, but knew that the only way she'd be able to browbeat the details out of her son would be face-to-face._

"_Well, just as long as you're fine." Luke relented, obviously coming to the same conclusion, "In any case, I hope you have a comfortable stay and everything goes well." He looked to Mara, asking if there was anything she wanted to add. Mara shrugged._

"_Uh... yeah... you too, Dad." Ben's voice sounded hesitant, again, but this time, it sounded like he was thinking of how best to say whatever he was going to say, next. Luke seemed to hear this too, but Mara saw him smile, like he knew what Ben was thinking or feeling and taking some kind of delight in not telling her whatever it was._

"_What else is the matter, son?" He said. Mara could practically see Ben's face go pink at the use of the word 'son', but held back a snicker. It was only as Ben spoke that she listened._

"_N-nothing... nothing really... it's just..."_

_Mara listened for Ben to continue, and after he stammered for a few minutes, she finally heard him blurt out,_

"_Um, Mom? I love you." And then, the connection was severed._

_Mara blinked at the comm for a few minutes, wondering what the hell had just happened, before she heard Luke chuckling. Shooting her husband a dirty look, Mara sat up straight again and fixed him with an imperious gaze._

"_What's so funny, farmboy?" She demanded. Luke stopped chuckling, but his smile didn't fade._

"_A few days ago, Ben couldn't wait to get away from us." Luke noted, amused, "Now... he's homesick."_

* * *

Ben practically slipped and fell on the floor at the sound of the new voice that he hadn't expected. The steam in the room was so heavy and thick that Ben couldn't even see where the speaker was, let alone who it was or what they looked like. And the voice was so strange and different that Ben couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman speaking- it was light like a woman's, but deep like a man's, and with an accent that Ben couldn't place.

It was at least thankful that, if he couldn't see the speaker, they at least couldn't see him as he regained his footing.

"...S-S-S-Someone there? Sorry to intrude... I thought this place was..." Ben's eyes adjusted to the blinding whiteness of all the steam in the air, enough that he could see the outline, and some color, of the person who must have spoken- wide, but thin, bony shoulders poking out of the water, a long, slender neck, all with cream-colored skin and long, taupe and tan colored brown hair... that was held up in a barrette clip.

Ben meant to say 'Empty', but what came out of his mouth was,

"For men only."

This was apparently the wrong thing to say.

"Are you calling me a woman, then?" The stranger demanded, turning enough that Ben could see the collarbones and just the barest inch of the top of a male chest, as well as a face that was most certainly not female. Ben felt something in him knot up, but in the sense that he felt like a black hole was evolving inside his stomach and Ben just wished that he could crawl into it, out of sheer embarrassment.

His face was long and thin with a small, but firm chin, and a straight nose that came down from a brow that didn't jut out over his eyes. There were no lines on his face, save for small ones around the corners of his mouth and eyes and his skin was that same, smooth cream color all over, except for his thin, salmon colored lips that were only visible by the shadow they cast on his chin.

And his eyes were narrow, but sharp, with the corners just pointed enough that this man could either glare or smile kindly (Though, Ben could see, he obviously preferred to glare) and they were the same color as the chlorinated water in a swimming pool that had frozen for the winter.

This man was, without a doubt, the most beautiful example of a Human being that Ben was sure he'd ever see in his life.

"S-S-S-Sorry... um... sir..." Ben stammered out, wondering what to say in this kind of situation, "...Um... Please excuse me for the misunderstanding... uh, my name is..."

"Ben Skywalker." The man interrupted, "I know that already." Ben blinked, "There are very few in the Household who don't- in that sense, you're a very famous person around here." The man didn't even look at Ben, in fact, he had gone back to staring in the opposite direction with his eyes closed, "But in any case, this room is where people come when they wish to relax. Stiff-necked greetings and formalities have no place here- make yourself comfortable, I won't do anything."

Ben frowned a little, but did his best. It was a little disturbing to be in the same room as another person while bathing, but, given that the man didn't even twitch when Ben took his robe off and wrapped a towel around his waist (just in case) and slid into the water, he supposed it was something normal for this person.

It was hot, but comfortable, and felt slimy with soap and bath oils, but tingled against his skin.

Ben's eyes never left the other man, sitting on the opposite side of the pool sized tub. The man remained motionless, except for the occasional pale, long, slender hand poking out of the water to hook a loose lock of hair back over his ear. For several, long, uncomfortable moments, Ben wondered if he could just forget this man's presence.

Then, the man spoke again.

"That steward with white hair told you to take a bath before bed to help you sleep." The man said, abruptly. Ben opened his eyes to see those icy blue irises fixated on him. Jacci had been right- his eyes WERE like Ben's, or at least, what Ben supposed his eyes would look like when he got much older. They were almost the same shape, except much narrower, and the same shade of blue, except without the curious light of youth that Ben's held. In short, this man had the exact same eyes as Ben did, and all difference came from how he looked with them. Jacci had been right about that, too- it was kind of creepy how he seemed to be able to pierce cloud, shadow, planet, and flesh with a mere glance.

Ben's mouth worked, soundlessly before the man continued,

"Am I right?" Ben shut his mouth, then nodded.

"Mmm." He managed. The man just smiled, closing those haunting eyes of his again.

"I was told to do the same- that person told me that I would be fulfilling an important task tomorrow." His eyes opened again, "I hear you'll be doing something important, too."

Ben slipped off the ledge inside the pool that he'd been sitting on and got a nosefull of hot, soapy water. After coughing for a few moments, he managed to stare at the man with incredulity.

"Does EVERYONE know about that?" He said, his already loud and somewhat shrill voice echoing off of all the walls and tiled floor, "I didn't volunteer to do the work, so why can't I at least keep this sort of thing to myself? And anyway, I don't know who YOU are, so how did you..."

"Your will has no effect on this particular matter, one way or another." Ben's mouth snapped shut. It was as though, with just the words alone, this man had stopped Ben's voice in his throat. That in and of itself made Ben nervous, but combined with the fact that this man didn't even flinch or twitch... "And you do know who I am. All that you lack is the awareness."

Ben blinked and frowned for a few minutes.

"Aren't those... the same thing?" He muttered under his breath before the man continued, speaking in much more understandable terms.

"Someone has already mentioned my name to you. You have simply never heard it in context with my face." He said. Ben blinked, before a light went on in his head.

"...So... would you be... Uncle Ouduar?"

The man who might or might not have been 'Uncle Ouduar' gave Ben a look that made him feel supremely idiotic, before his next words confirmed his identity.

"So you either heard from that child or that person's brat of a younger sister." He said, obviously referring to the fact that Ben had addressed him as 'Uncle'. Ben bristled a little, but had to privately concede that Jacci did, indeed, act like a bit of a brat, "Just Ouduar is fine. I'm hardly an 'Uncle' where you're concerned."

Ben continued to frown, not entirely sure if he could trust this man, but figuring that, if he was willing to introduce himself and be amiable, it probably wouldn't be smart to be rude or openly show his distrust.

"So... Um, Ouduar..." Ben said, slowly. Ouduar didn't open his eyes again, but did seem to be listening, "...Why... are you here... in the Countess's house?"

Ouduar remained silent for a long moment, before he shrugged.

"Because it's a place to be." What, precisely, he meant by that, Ben wasn't sure, nor was he sure if he WANTED to know. In any case, Ouduar continued without actually explaining himself, "I'm not quite a member of the Household... more of a tenant. Mother needs a place to stay permanently, I need a way to stay with her to be sure she's alright, and that person is willing to give us room and board with no questions and usually doesn't bother me except for favors that I do as rent."

"By 'That person'... you mean the Countess, right?" Ben clarified. Again, Ouduar shrugged, but his eyes opened and glimmered with amusement as he glanced at Ben.

"That's the first time I've heard anyone, let alone an OUTSIDER, refer to that person so casually." He said, almost smirking. Ben bristled at the use of the word 'Outsider', almost completely ignoring the remark in it's entirety before Ouduar continued, closing those eyes and saving Ben their glare, "Everyone in the Household... That musician, that sand shifter, that child, that little brat, even that steward... everyone has a specific honorific for that person, but none of them so informal as the title 'Countess' as though it were a name."

Ben shifted a little- he wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but it was a strange topic of conversation, and the way Ouduar referred to everyone was confusing... 'That musician' Ben could only assume meant Haid, 'That sand shifter' he had no clue, 'That child' might have been Hiken but Ben wasn't sure not having spoken with the other red-haired boy much, 'That little brat' obviously Jacci, and 'That steward' couldn't be anybody but Gornash... but it was still so odd to listen to, especially as Ouduar seemed determined not to even use gender-specific words.

"Haa..." Ben said, vaguely, but the sentence suddenly seemed to have relevance, "But, now that you mention it, I guess everyone does refer to the Countess in their own way... And I remember hearing once that Gornash informed somebody... how did he say it... 'Milady prefers to be referred to as Excellency by-' other people or something like that..." Ben trailed off, trying to remember the exact words, but Ouduar was smiling, satisfied.

"That says something, doesn't it?" He murmured, the quiet words echoing through the room. Ben frowned and pulled a face as Ouduar's eyes opened again and stared straight through Ben.

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" He demanded. Ouduar's smile, while eerie, almost seemed gentle as he spoke.

"That person has allowed you to create your own way of addressing them." Ouduar said, at last.

"Eh?" The noise came out, almost on reflex as Ben was taken aback, but it certainly made him think for a few minutes before he opened his mouth again to speak, "So... um... what kinds of favors do you do for the Countess?" Ouduar barely twitched, closing his eyes again and seemingly trying to return to that peaceful calm as the steam started to thin and the water started to cool to a more lukewarm temperature.

"Odd jobs, mostly. Carry this, fetch that, take that ship back to it's owner... whatever needs to be done that there simply aren't enough hands for or that are too out of the way for anyone else to do." Ben listened, but his eyelids were starting to droop and he couldn't hold in a yawn before Ouduar seemed to notice as well.

"You're probably right- it is time for bed." Ben was awakened enough that he could get out and behind him, he heard the splashing of water that told him Ouduar was doing the same. It was awkward, and almost tense, but Ben kept his back firmly turned as he dried off and put on the pajamas he'd brought, and, thankfully, by the time he dared look back over his shoulder, Ouduar was in sleepwear of his own, putting something onto his face that hooked over his ears and rested on his nose. It was a curious enough thing that Ben stared for a moment, wondering what it could possibly be- if he had to guess, the thing seemed best paralleled to a pair of circular windows for the eyes that were put on the face, but...

"...Ouduar... what's that?" Ben asked, pointing to the glass circles that were connected by the silvery wire. Ouduar blinked at Ben, the glass flashing in the light of the room so that Ben momentarily didn't see Ouduar's eyes behind the lenses, and Jacci's words about how 'Sometimes you can't see his eyes' suddenly made sense.

"These are my spectacles- my eyes are a little off so I need them to see as well as the average person." He answered, pushing them up his nose. The heat of the room made the glass fog up and Ouduar kept reaching up and wiping them with a slender finger. Standing like this, Ben could see Ouduar as being taller than him, but not exactly tall, like Uncle Han or Jacen, and either way, Ouduar was lanky and thin, but not gangly or scrawny. His legs were long, but only enough to give him the illusion of being taller than he really was, while his arms were lean and graceful, like his hands and fingers. With his hair let down, it easily fell past his shoulders, soft and stringy, but only curled at the very, very ends from being crimped by the clip or teased at with fingers or something.

All of this was observed within a matter of split seconds before Ben started to question again.

"So, they're eye-enhancers." He said, comprehending. Ouduar blinked, then frowned.

"No... they're _spectacles_." He replied, slowly. Ben blinked.

"...Eye-enhancers." Ben repeated, stubbornly. Ouduar's expression remained consternated.

"Spectacles!" He insisted.

"Eye-enhancers!"

"Spectacles!"

"You two..." Ben jumped into the air as a new voice came into the room. Ouduar didn't, but he seemed to be used to these things, so he had probably expected someone to come along at some point in their argument. Spinning around, Ben could see the Countess' valet with a litten candle, glaring at them with quite an obvious reason, "There are others in this house trying to get some sleep. Your voices carry far too well- please desist."

"You know I will." Ouduar said, his spectacles/eye-enhancers glowing by the light of the candle. What he meant by those words was completely lost on Ben, but Gornash left quickly enough, anyway. After a quiet moment, Ouduar picked up a candle from the table and lit it for himself, "Come on- I'm right down the hall from you, so I know how to get up to the rooms."

Ben blinked for a moment, but followed, not knowing the complete inner working of the house, anyway. By the time they had reached upstairs, Ben was fairly sure of where staircases were and how to get to them. Ouduar stopped outside the room the Countess had let Ben stay in, waiting for Ben to catch up, as Ouduar's longer legs had outstripped Ben's speed. Ben caught his breath, but eventually managed to thank Ouduar for showing him around. Ouduar merely shrugged.

"So, see you 'round then, I guess." Ben said, nervously. Ouduar continued to smile and shrug, before Ben finally got in his last word, intending to close the door almost immediately, "Eye-enhancers!"

Ouduar's hand stopped the door from closing all the way. Try as Ben might, he couldn't push it shut all the way.

"One last thing, Ben." Ouduar said, and with a look of utmost seriousness on his face, he pushed the door open and leaned in to whisper in Ben's ear, like it was a matter of secrecy and the strictest confidence. Ben blinked a little, the nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him that this was not about the argument over spectacles versus eye-enhancers, but he didn't have the slightest clue what it would be, nor why Ouduar was lingering so long over his shoulder- even if he was trying to build up a dramatic pause or whatever, this was...

Weird.

"I love you."

Ben blinked for a few moments, just standing there in complete and total shock, unsure of exactly what had just happened, before Ouduar stood straight again and cheerfully smiled, fingers wiggling good-bye, "Sweet dreams."

And then, he was gone, leaving Ben standing in the doorway of his room, still utterly aghast, before he slammed the door and locked it, promptly hiding under his bedcovers.

"Oh, like I'm gonna get any sleep NOW..."

* * *

"Farmboy!" Luke sighed a little, pushing himself out of his chair and trudging out of the room. It had been a long day, and there were still some joints in his body that ached at the mere prospect of moving, so hearing his wife in such a bad mood that she'd start shouting at this hour of the night was not how he'd wanted to wind down from the day. Really, he'd been thinking about something involving the cabin, but hell if he was going to actually tell anyone that.

Mara was in a mechanical repair room with a toolkit, sitting next to Artoo. Luke raised an eyebrow for a moment, wondering what Mara was doing, trying to repair Artoo when she had absolutely NEVER done that before, but Mara shot him a glare that informed him this was NOT a repair job.

"Something the matter?" He asked lightly. Mara looked displeased, to say the least, as she used the tools to gesture to Artoo. Artoo simply made a noise that, if he'd been a living creature instead of a droid, Luke would have sworn was attempting to endear pity.

"I was trying to recover the data of our mission to the Unknown Regions, but this stupid little astro-droid won't let me past the security blocks- keeps saying something like 'Classified information' or something." Mara explained, her grip tightening on the slicers, but not in a manner that worried Luke that she might try to use them for something other than hacking into Artoo's database.

What worried him more was why Mara Jade, known to be an expert in most everything, would call for her husband to help her with such a trivial matter as recovering data. It simply wasn't something that was done.

"...Is... the micropoint broken?" Luke finally asked- it was the only reason he could think of for Mara not having gotten her task finished. Mara gave him one of her Looks, but answered with some helpful information.

"That's not it- it's just that this little bugger set up a doomsday gate. If I try to hack into it without giving the passcode, he'll destroy all the information. Since a lot of the information about the mission never was very clear, I want to be absolutely sure that there's nothing I'm missing- the fact that your little barrel-can here is deliberately hiding something just makes me even more suspicious." Luke wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing that if Mara felt the need to explain herself like this, she had a point to make, "And I REALLY don't want to risk losing whatever data was gathered during this event. That's where you come in."

Oh.

"You want me to talk Artoo into letting down the firewalls." Luke guessed. Mara nodded, visibly calming that at least she didn't have to explain that much to her husband.

"Or into giving the passcodes so we can get through them or whatever. The point is, he LISTENS to you."

There, Mara definitely had a point. In all the years that Luke had had Artoo around, he had never failed when Luke had needed him. And never, ever had Artoo disobeyed him.

"Artoo, either give Mara the passcodes, or take down the doomsday gate." He said, sternly. Artoo was silent for a moment, before something appeared on the diagnostics display.

_'Command invalid. Sector is defective.' _ Luke frowned. If the sector was defective, Mara wouldn't have been able to write anything to it, nor would Artoo have been able to set up a doomsday gate to protect it- his circuits didn't function like that. Both had happened, at least that's what Luke assumed if Mara was trying to retrieve something from this sector.

"Artoo, if this sector is defective, it should be replaced. Are you saying you would like me to take out the chip and put in a new one with no defects? I will if you'd like me to." Luke heard Mara suppress a noise that might have been a snort at how patronizing he was being. To a droid, no less.

Artoo didn't reply for a long time, before he grudgingly admitted that he liked all his circuits in place and as they were. Which left him the option of trying to continue to sequester the information, but Luke had a vague idea, having known Artoo since he was nineteen, of what the droid would attempt next.

"Now, what is written to this sector that you would set up a doomsday gate to keep us from getting at it?" Luke asked, determined to be logical and calm about this, even though he felt supremely ridiculous arguing with an astromech.

Artoo's reply only furthered that feeling.

_'I have no idea what you are talking about.'_

Luke ground his teeth together, but kept his tongue in check.

"Just now, Mara was trying to recover data from your memory drive. What data do you have that you were trying to keep sequestered?"

_'Those data are corrupted. The sector should be sequestered.'_

"They ARE. And you're the one doing it, purposely."

Artoo's response to the accusation was clipped and distinctly miffed, at which point he withdrew his interface arm, clearly snubbed and not about to be cooperative now. Luke let out a growl and started to pull on his hair before he remembered Mara was also in the room. She was also clearly aggravated, but he could also feel a strange sense of focus- having a troublesome astromech on the rebellion was giving her a direction to vent her stress into, allowing her to concentrate on it even more, to give her something to do.

Something was bothering Mara Jade Skywalker.

"Masters Skywalker, are you two there?" Luke blinked at the surprise from hearing the intercomm, but supposed it should have been expected. It was Kyp's voice that he was hearing.

"Yes, we're here Kyp." He replied, hitting the button to allow a two-way conversation.

"We have a bit of a situation up here." Kyp's voice sounded a combination of nervous and irritated, which only made Luke sigh- if it was something that the other masters couldn't handle, then it probably would take a while, even with both himself and Mara sorting out the situation. Mara seemed to come to the same conclusion as she stood and made her way out of the room.

None of them saw a new figure slip into the room, as though he had walked through the very walls, kneel next to Artoo, and whisper a word of thanks as the droid ejected a disc into his waiting fingers.

And then, he was gone.

* * *

In the end, Ben was not able to sleep. It was all probably for the best, because sometime around midnight, he heard noises in the hallway outside his room- they were faint, almost like the proverbial 'Bump in the Night' kind of sounds, but more like a voice that was calling out. Cautiously, Ben opened his eyes, having grown accustomed to the darkness enough that he could see where the door was, open it and tiptoe out into the darkened corridor.

The voice was louder and more distinct, but Ben could tell it was echoing from around many different corners. Either way, he moved cautiously along the dark hallway, not sure of who he might bump into or where he was going.

Every step he took echoed in the empty hallway, even though he was barefoot and tiptoeing. The noises also got louder and clearer- it was definitely a voice, and the sound which sounded like the voice calling out was crying and... calling someone's name...

Ben kept following the voice until he found himself in front of a door. Unlike all the other rooms in the Countess's house, this one looked normal- no doorknobs or latches or handles or anything, but just a button to press and it would slide right open. It was even the same color as the interior of a ship, that dulled, dark cool gray. And from the other side, Ben could definitely hear a voice, crying. And from the sound of it, it had to be the voice of a child.

As he lifted a hand to press the button, Ben paused. He couldn't feel another person, but the voice sounded Human... could it be like almost all the other members of the Countess' Household, whom he couldn't feel with his empathy? Ben didn't doubt it. But, despite the fact that he couldn't feel anything with his empathy, Ben could still... somehow feel SOMETHING... he could hear something different in this voice.

Whoever was crying wasn't sad or upset or even angry the way he'd been on some occasions that had made him cry... this person, whoever they were, was... scared.

Well, Ben understood that- only recently had he had a few experiences where he'd almost been scared enough to cry... and what hadn't done that to him, it had happened to Jacci. But still, after what he'd been through, what could be scarier that it would scare someone THIS badly?

Ben reached out and touched the door, meaning to knock, but the mere brush of his fingertips sent the door sliding open. Inside, the room was a compact cubicle- not really a room, but more of a place meant for someone to sleep in with the understanding that they would do little else but sleep in the room. A single shelf for a few personal items was over a small computer terminal that seemed fashioned for someone just starting the higher levels of public education, and next to it, a timepiece. The entire right side of the room was dominated by a sleeping mattress built into the wall.

Ben had seen rooms like this before- namely, the sleeping quarters on his parent's ship and Uncle Han's ship. Though this was much, much smaller and obviously only meant for one person.

There was also someone hiding under the covers of the mattress. Someone who had sat bolt upright and armed themselves with their pillow as soon as Ben had entered. Ben blinked as the single, gray eye hiding peering out from around the pillow stared at him, quivering as though expecting to be hit.

Ben held up his hands- mostly because he didn't know what else to do with them, but figured it would be best to catch the person's weapon of choice should they decide to throw that pillow- before the person relaxed a little and more of their face came into view. The first thing that Ben picked out was that this had to be the person who was crying- if the redness in their eyes wasn't clue enough, then the face that there were still tracks down the cheeks and a slightly runny nose told him. The second thing was that this person was probably just a few years older than him, but still young enough that they were just a kid.

Ben continued to blink, frowning, before edging a little closer. The gray eyes never left his face for a moment, before the person scooted over, obviously inviting Ben to sit down. Ben did so, but couldn't help but stare as, upon coming closer, a faint but unmistakable bruise became evident on the person's cheek, right underneath their left eye.

"Who are you?" The voice told Ben a few more distinct pieces of information, the least of which was that this was a boy. He couldn't be more than five years older than Ben. Tops. He also had to be utterly terrified of something- Ben didn't need his empathy for that, as he could hear it in this boy's voice.

Still... couldn't be that bad, if he hadn't screamed for help or something at the appearance of a complete and total stranger in his room. Or it could be that Ben didn't scare him, as he was just eight years old. Either way, this guy was talking to him. Progress compared to hearing a faint crying down the hall.

"You can call me Ben." He said, crossing his legs and squinting at the other boy, who was still watching him like wounded animal watches a creature that may or may not be a predator. There was something very hauntingly familiar about those gray eyes, but he couldn't quite pin it.

"Hi." The boy said, non-commitally. Ben leaned in a little more, tilting his head this way and that as though to examine him from all angles. The boy accepted the treatment without a word.

"How about you?" Ben asked. The boy's eyes narrowed, suspiciously, before he spoke.

"If you don't know, I'm not telling you." His tone was defensive, as though he thought his very identity could get him in trouble by revealing it. This very fact put Ben off, but he didn't stop squinting, except the boy kept talking, "The minute you figure it out, you'll just say 'Oh, you're THAT guy.' and..."

"How old're you?" Ben interrupted. The boy blinked back, not saying anything for a long time, but eventually croaking out.

"Twelve. Almost thirteen."

Ben raised an eyebrow- he was already frowning and squinting and it was starting to make his eyebrow muscles cramp- before he opened an eye to get a better look at the bruise on the boy's cheek.

"Where'd you get that bruise on your face?" He asked. The boy's glare didn't waver.

"Accident." He said, automatically. Ben pulled a face.

"So, who hit you then?" He asked. The boy's eyes grew sharper, almost as though he were too terrified to tell anyone.

"Nobody- I was reaching for a book and it fell and hit me in the face." He snapped. Ben leaned in closer- it was a bad idea, but he really didn't care. On some level, he was kind of amused by how uncomfortable this boy was about fingering someone who was beating him up.

"Did your mom or dad do this?" Ben asked. The boy gave him a very nasty look. Ben didn't care- coming from an older kid who was holding onto a pillow like a younger child, his glares didn't have much effect.

"I don't have parents." He snapped, but his eyes suddenly shifted away. Ben continued to squint- not having parents did kind of rule them out, but what was he so evasive about? Ben ignored it for the moment, continuing to poke into this boy's problems in spite of- or maybe because of- the fact that they were absolutely none of his business,

"So, your classmates are bullying you at school." Ben guessed. The boy got angrier. Ben knew he'd guessed right.

"Go away."

"No- I'm awake now, I won't be able to go back to sleep." The boy gave him a dirty look, but didn't say anything, but Ben stopped him from having to, "So, why're you staying with the Countess?"

The boy stopped being defensive and secretive almost immediately. Mostly, however, because it was replaced with confusion.

"Who?"

Ben blinked.

"The... Countess. The woman who owns this house? C'mon- you know her, right?" Ben pushed, only be be met with a very, very blank look. The boy kept blinking at Ben as though he were speaking Huttese. He... honestly had no clue who Ben was talking about.

"...You mean... the Princess? I'm not STAYING with her, but..." The boy said, slowly, attempting to make sense of it. Ben rolled his eyes.

"Eh? No- she's definitely a Countess. Seriously- you really don't know?" The boy continued to blink, blankly. Ben stood up and measured about the Countess's height as best he could, "This tall... dark brown hair down to her waist..." The boy's eyes lit up with comprehension.

"And brown eyes?" He asked. Ben frowned, sitting back down on the mattress.

"No... her eyes are gray..." He said, slowly, before studying the boy's features a little more, "She looks like you if you were older and a girl and with long hair." Ben said, at last. The boy kept blinking, looking incredibly confused, shaking his head.

"There's nobody like... tha-" He stopped, frowned, then leaned forward, looking curious, "IS there someone like that around here?" Ben blinked for a few minutes, wondering how there could be any doubt, but nodded, slowly. The boy looked thoughtful for a moment, before muttering, more to himself than anyone else, "Maybe THAT'S why Major Janson thought I was a... because he thought I was this Countess woman..."

Ben felt like his brain had hit the pause button for a moment, before he reacted.

"Wait... WHAT?" Ben demanded, confused, "Who?" The boy frowned at him.

"If you don't even know about Major Janson of the Rogue Squadron, you and I have nothing to say to each other." The boy said, turning away and sticking his chin in the air. Ben outright gaped at how blunt and downright nasty the other was being, compared to the boy who had been crying and utterly terrified a moment before.

"You don't have to be a-" Ben paused for a good word- he could think of a few that his Uncle Han had used, but he hadn't understood what they meant, so he didn't want to use them since experience had taught him that using a word you didn't understand could be very embarrassing. Before he had a chance to find the right word, the boy threw something at him, in an obvious signal to get out of the room. Ben caught what had been thrown at him the first time, but was not so lucky for the pillow that followed it and knocked him clear off the mattress. Something from the shelf also came down- this kid could probably use the Force, so it didn't surprise Ben in the least when the book and pillow both started to beat him despite the fact that the boy on the bed hadn't moved a centimeter.

Taking the hint, Ben got out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and listening the muffled noises that resumed behind it. Crap. Ben let out a sigh, but knew that going back in was probably not going to help.

After a moment, he looked down at what he'd caught that the boy had thrown at him. It looked like some kind of ornamental necklace- what kind of boy wore something like this, anyway?- with a little half-circle of some silvery crystal. Maybe it was supposed to be a moon or something? Nah- it was hanging with the straight edge down, like a dome, and in any case, there was a vein of blue going in a meander.

So what WAS this thing?

* * *

"Milady, your shoes are still sopping from yesterday." Gornash held up one of the shoes in question, turning it over to illustrate his point. Ben could see, indeed, that a stream of water poured out of the leather heel.

The Countess didn't even look in her steward's direction, sipping at her tea with a smirk. She was still in those bright, metallic-colored pajamas, not even dressed for the day, which only made Ben blink and stare all the more.

"Sometimes it's worth it to go running out in the rain and splashing in the puddles." She said, loftily. Ben kept blinking, before the Countess seemed to realize he was standing in the doorway, "Oh, Sieur Ben. Did you sleep well?"

Ben pulled a face- he'd seen himself in the mirror, and knew very well that, with his hair mussed, the shadows under his eyes, the bloodshot red of his eye whites, and how pale he was, it was very obvious that he had not had a restful night at all, let alone a good one.

"Are my parents atheist?" He asked. The Countess blinked, looking honestly surprised before she sighed a little. Gornash returned to the stove where he'd been fixing breakfast for, what looked like, the entire house. Ben could see a small mountain of hotcakes being piled on a large, willow-patterned platter, and next to it, another small mountain that smelled like animal grease and spices and salt, but that he'd never seen before, and yet another of yellow and white melting together which could only be eggs.

Ben sat down and put his head down on the table, closing his eyes. His head and eyes ached from not having any rest the night before and the Countess, thankfully, said nothing, save a warning when a plate was set down in front of him. Ben looked up, uninterestedly, seeing a portion of food on the plate that, while he was sure was delicious and wonderful and all that, he really had no appetite for.

"Big Brother, why's Brother Ben sleepin' at the table? You said we can't sleep at the table- why's he allowed to sleep here? Huh?" Ben went to put his hands over his ears at the high-pitched, somewhat whiny voice that came over his head, except that one of his hands was already being held and, if his hand hadn't fallen asleep from the awkward angle, he might have been able to discern what Jacci was saying with her fingers.

It wasn't the first new voice, nor the last.

"If he's not gonna eat, can I have his breakfast?"

"Tilus, I'm sure there's a good reason. What if he's sick?"

"At least he's being quiet."

"Did that steward finally poison the food?"

"I resent that."

"Everyone- we're going to have a long day today. Break your morning fasts and save worrying for later." The Countess's voice was different today, for some reason... Well, Ben had heard her sound like this before, but it was hard to imagine it was the same person as yesterday, whom had been running around in the rain like a little kid. Ben's head ached just thinking about it.

When he finally did look up, it was to meet a piece of white porcelain with his nose. It was hot, but not too hot, and he could smell something really sweet coming from around it or on it or something.

"Milady, I'm not sure if that's wise. He IS only eight." That was definitely Gornash's voice. Ben couldn't feel Jacci's hand anymore, so either his whole arm was completely dead or Jacci had left. Hopefully the latter.

"You always use this to get ME up." The Countess replied, calmly. Ben used the one hand he could feel to reach for the cup and feel for the handle. Then, with effort that felt harder than trying to stop his empathy, Ben sat up and looked at what was inside the mug. It looked like some kind of liquid, very very light brown, and smelled sweet, yet bitter at the same time.

"For very different reasons, Milady." Ben sniffed at what it was. There was this sense that he'd smelled something like this before, but he couldn't tell where or when.

"One measly cup that's at least eighty percent cream and sugar isn't going to hurt him- besides, he needs to be awake for today." Ben took a sip- it tasted like sugar and milk with something with a distinctly bitter, yet... zesty flavor added to it. It didn't taste bad, actually- if it hadn't been for the aftertaste of the bitterness, this drink would have been too sweet.

Ben slowly swallowed a few more mouthfuls before he realized there was someone sitting next to him. Eyes feeling less puffy and sagging, Ben blinked a few times for his vision to clear before he realized that it was Ouduar, fully dressed from head to toe in a solid dark blue. He was even wearing a long trench coat that reached his ankles in a matching color. The only thing that wasn't blue were the frames of his spectacles and a small white piece of string that was holding his hair up in back.

"Morning, Ben." Ouduar said, grinning cheerfully. Ben scowled and scooted away from Ouduar as he sipped at the brown liquid that was waking him up. Ouduar helpfully pushed the plate of food towards him, though Ben was fairly sure that it was ice cold by now.

Oh well. At least it still tasted okay, even cold, Ben reflected as he picked up a hotcake which had had butter and a brown-colored sugar smeared all over it. It probably was better warm, but it was still good. And the meat rolls, whatever they were, were also pretty good.

"Um... Countess..." Ben said, halfway through his third hotcake. The Countess was still sipping her tea, curled up in her chair with her toes gripping the edge of the table, looking supremely unconcerned for any of the troubles in the world.

"Mmm?"

"I was wondering... if I could ask about something that happened last night." Ben continued to munch on his breakfast, but slowly. It was altogether too much food. Why did Gornash cook this much?

"Ouduar was just telling me about it." The Countess said, lifting her teaspoon and shaking it in Ouduar's direction, "Bathing with a little boy like that- people are going to think you have abnormal tastes." Ouduar at least looked affronted.

"This reproach from you." Ouduar said, mildly. The Countess continued to sip at her tea, not even aware that her argument with Ouduar had gone completely over Ben's head. Ben, becoming annoyed at being talked about as though he weren't there, decided to redirect the conversation.

"That's not what this is about." Ben put in. The Countess raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes over her cup of tea, but said nothing, inviting Ben to continue, "It's true that last night, I met Ouduar..." Ben scowled at said person, scooting his chair away and closer towards the Countess, clearly indicating how well they'd hit it off, "But after that, I was up for pretty much all night. And I met someone else in the house..." Ben continued to watch the Countess, whom had yet to respond to any of this news, "... He was this guy... he said he was twelve or something, but he didn't even seem to know where he was... I asked him why he was staying here and he didn't even know that you were a Countess or anything..." Ben kept his eyes on said lady of the Household. She still had remained thoroughly engrossed in her tea, almost to the point that Ben was wondering if she was even listening to him, except for her next words.

"And? Did you get a name?" She asked, casually. Ben was starting to feel uneasy that she was being so light about this matter, but shook his head.

"...N-no... He never told me..." Ben muttered, "...But he had this big bruise on his cheek..." The Countess eyes slitted open a little to watch as Ben traced where he'd seen the injury, "And when I started asking him where it'd come from, he started snapping at me and insisting that it had been an accident or something, but it was still really obvious that someone had hit him..." The Countess lowered her cup of tea back onto it's saucer, eyes going very cold but not nearly cold enough to deter Ben, "And when I kept asking, he got mad and threw stuff at me until I left the room." Which reminded Ben of the necklace he'd stuffed into his pocket, "Here- this is something I caught."

As Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the small necklace that he'd walked away with from the argument, he didn't notice the look of shock that came into the Countess' eyes, nor how Gornash looked away, as though he were running away from a ghost from long ago. By the time he'd looked up from his pocket to the face of the Countess for her reaction, the expression had disappeared.

For a long, long moment, the Countess said nothing at all, before she shrugged and picked her tea back up again. Ben had to wonder for a moment exactly how slowly the Countess could drink a single cup that couldn't have held any more than five fluid ounces. Seriously, was her cup bottomless or what?

"Countess, do you know who that boy was?" Ben finally pressed when it was apparent the Countess was not going to answer him. The Countess's eyes opened for a moment, before they slid away.

"Well... this house IS haunted, after all..." She muttered. Ben felt a shiver go up his spine and quickly changed the subject.

"So... um... you said I'm going to be going to check up on the Dantes today... and that someone would be coming with me.." Considering what he'd been through last night, suddenly the prospect of being volunteered against his will for some kind of work didn't seem so bad. The Countess looked up from her tea, but smiled, rather eerily.

"I apologize for springing it on you yesterday, but I had to say SOMETHING to Sieur Dantes or else I doubt he and his sister would have let anyone in the Household return to their residence, even if it was to care for them. And I cannot do it myself, because I have so many different jobs to do right now." Ben blinked at her, amazed that the Countess was apologizing to him when yesterday, she'd been all but bullying him into it.

"...Jobs?" Ben finally managed, not noticing as Ouduar snuck food from Ben's plate into his own mouth.

"It never rains, but when it pours." The Countess lamented, "Before your father managed to snare me on Qoribu, UnuThul also came to me with a Wish. One that will take some time, too, I'm ashamed to say. And after that, there lies the business with you, Jacci, and the transplant. And after that, several new customers who came in while I was gone- quite a mess, too, considering that I had little time to prepare for someone to take care of the Household for me while I was away."

Ben felt his stomach drop out at the indirect accusation, even if the Countess hadn't meant it. After all, if Jacci hadn't gotten on board and if he hadn't hidden her and...

"On the other hand, there was one less Wish I had to grant in the Household itself." The Countess mentioned, swirling her tea a little, "I don't know what happened during that trip between you and Jacci... but she's reached the point where she no longer asks me to help her- she's started to make her own Wishes come true."

Ben blinked for a moment, before it occurred to him that he hadn't seen the Countes interact with her sister since they'd gotten back- the last time he'd spoken with Jacci, her hair had still been uneven and mussed as when she'd just cut it. And their only conversation, which had been regarding the transplant, had been pretty brief. Distantly, Ben wondered if Jacci had yet cut off all her sleeves and ruffles for more movement appropriate clothing, or if her relationship with the Countess had changed at all.

The Countess stood and clapped her hands together. Only then did Ben notice she was wearing a black turtleneck under her aluminum colored pajamas. This wouldn't have bothered Ben so much if it weren't for the fact that he, himself, had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt up to his shoulders and worn the loosest fitting shorts he had because of the extreme heat.

"Well then, we mustn't tarry- 'tis time to begin the day. You two had best be on your way if you want to get to the residence of Sieur Dantes and Selle Mercedes." The Countess said, lightly stepping, barefoot, over the tiled floor as she hovered over to her valet, pulling him away from the stove with little difficulty and swiftly disappearing through the door.

Ben sat there, blinking for a moment, before coherent speech returned.

"Eh?"

He looked over at Ouduar.

"You mean that person didn't tell you?" The older man asked, face the picture of innocence. Ben kept blinking.

"Eh?"

"I'm going to be the one escorting you to that customer's house."

"EH?!"

Ouduar smiled, somehow eerily and sweetly at the same time.

"It's all because I love you."

"EEH!?"

* * *

"This must be unusual for me to come calling at such an hour..." Chief Omas said, his tone strained, but polite, "But I'm afraid that we had no choice but to contact the Jedi on this matter."

Luke and Mara would have exchanged worried glances, but the situation called for professionalism. There was time for emotion later. Even the other Masters of the Council looked uncomfortable with Chief Omas in their midst, asking for their help, no less.

"If you had no choice, then it is not our place to be ungracious. What matter do you have to bring to our attention?"

A/N: And, because I'm evil and my Wes Janson muse wants something to say, I'm going to end it here. At last, I could introduce Ouduar- he's probably my favorite character to write, aside from Gornash and the CMC. And, originally, he was supposed to be a little kid, even younger than Ben, and mostly a minor character that was only mentioned but with no real personality or development. I kinda like him better this way. And don't worry- he's not a pedophile, though he certainly doesn't have a problem with making everyone THINK he is.

Attention all: This is your one and only Wes Janson!muse speaking- come one, come all, and place your bets for the 'Who IS the CMC, anyway?' Poll! Who is she, where did she come from, what book did she originally appear in, and why in GOD'S NAME does our author refer to her as 'CMC' and never just 'the Countess' or 'her'? You needn't bet any credits, but for all who participate, you shall have your choice of a 100-word drabble written by our dear Sapadu on any Star Wars topic, be it a Introspective!Mara piece or a silly Jabba-the-Hutt meets Pizza-the-Hutt. The winner- or person whose guess causes the least mental scarring and damage on behalf of our author- will receive a fanart piece and a 500-word drabble written just for them. Happy guessing!

Your one and only, Wes Janson of the Rogue Squadron.

Um... because I'm obscenely bored right now. Give me something to do that will give me a semi-break from this oh-so-taxing fic. Please!


	22. Part II: Chapter 9

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

Chapter 9:

**Mysterious Murder Spree Across Galaxy: Be On Guard!**

_Chief investigators and enforcement officers are stumped at the unusual deaths that have been reported on twelve different systems throughout the last week. All the victims have been reported as only having coincidental connections and relationships, and no murders have yet been reported with any key motives, remnants, or similarities, which is why current Chief of State, Cal Omas, has asked all citizens to remain alert and on the watch. _

_Chief Omas has been reported as saying, "We have no reason to rule out political intentions or possibly terrorist motives for these incidents, which is why anyone could be the plausible next victim. Thus far, every available detective is working to find the murderer or possible murderers, and we have even asked for the assistance of the Jedi Masters for further precaution."_

_The Chief of Investigators and Grand Master of the Jedi Order were both unavailable for comment._

Han sighed and turned off the HoloNet that had been broadcasting the same article for the past four days. It was scary and everything, but couldn't people have more SENSE than this? Putting it out in the media like this would just alert the killer, whoever the guy was, that people were on the look out for him. That was probably why Luke and Mara had declined to talk to any press. Or, quite possibly, why they used that Force hocus-pocus of theirs to... deter... any reporters from asking them questions.

The thought made Han smirk a little- yeah, definitely Mara's style to do that.

Still... sending out a warning to the people telling them to keep on their toes wasn't so bad. It was more that Han wished that the Chief of State could at least know to be discreet about it or something. Even when the Alliance was still together and Mon Mothma had been in power, they'd known how to catch killers and people like that without kicking up a fuss and getting everyone all panicky. That strategy had gone to Hell when Leia had left politics- she'd always been the one who'd known how to do stuff like that.

"Han?"

Speaking of which...

"How was it, facing the lions?" Han asked, propping his feet up on the table and ignoring how Leia's nose wrinkled, however fondly. She flopped into the other chair, sighing tiredly. The moment Leia had seen the stupid HoloCast, she had set out to the Coruscant press office, hellbent on getting some real details on the so called 'Murder Spree'. All of the HoloNet reports had given only the vaguest of details, such as when one of the victims was particularly famous or a child with some crazy disease or something else that stood out, but nothing that would actually help citizens keep an eye out.

"Omas has the place pretty tightly under wraps- he obviously doesn't want anyone knowing anything about this. And the minute they saw me, I was practically thrown out on my ear." Leia's eyes opened, but they weren't too worried, they even held a hint of amusement, "But Cakhaim and Meewalh stopped the bouncer from getting anywhere close to touching me. One of the guards almost lost an arm."

Han grinned back at her. Things couldn't be too bad if the Noghri bodyguards that faithfully protected Leia were still up to par in protecting their Princess.

"So... you went to Luke next, right?" Han guessed. Leia nodded, but was frowning.

"At least I tried- Luke and Mara were gone, apparently pulled for this." Han shrugged- that was only to be expected, since they WERE the greatest Jedi this galaxy had ever seen, after all, "I had to ask some of the other Masters- Had to go through Kyp and Kam and Tionne and Kenth before someone gave me a straight answer, since they all kept saying it was 'Council business' and that they had been 'Forbidden from speaking about it with civilians.'"

"That's bull-"

"Even Saba refused to talk about it- she said that, even the Force-sensitive or users in the city, if they weren't part of the Order, it wasn't their place to know about this. I had to go to Cighal and she at least told me that Corran and Kyle would talk to me about it, because she hadn't been present when Omas came to the Council session, but I had to track them down somewhere in the lower levels. It was a MESS!"

A mess. That was putting it lightly.

"What'd you find out? Did they tell you why people were dying and stuff or would they not tell you that, either?" Han asked. Leia sighed, but continued.

"...They told me... but that was part of the reason why all the other Masters were on edge and why the Jedi had been called in at all on this." Leia looked tired, but more than that, she looked... tense. And almost wary of telling Han this news.

"Oh... great..." This couldn't be good.

"The way that people have started dying... I don't know how to say it, but it's just not... natural... even given that this is murder, there are ways that people are being found that shouldn't be physically possible. One victim was found with his insides all shredded, but all of his bones were intact and his skin was still whole, another person died from a loop of wire going down his throat, through his esophagus wall, and circled around his windpipe... he essentially was strangled from the inside... and a third was a woman found hanging from her ceiling on a hook, like she'd swallowed it."

Leia looked sick just describing it. Han concurred.

"Ew." He said, delicately.

"The point is... none of these incidents have anything too off about them- no fingerprints, no signs of forced entry, no sign of a struggle... if it weren't for the fact that these instances are so gruesome and horrible, the investigators almost want to write them off as suicides..."

It clicked.

"Omas suspects the Jedi." Han said, slowly. Leia sighed but nodded.

"Or, at the very least, someone who is able to use the Force. There's no other way that someone could DO this. That's why Luke and Mara are investigating at all, and that's also probably why Omas doesn't want the public to know about it." She mused, pulling one leg up and leaning back into a more comfortable position, "If the public knows that people are being killed like that, there's going to be an uncontrollable panic and the Jedi won't be able to either do their job or be quietly investigated."

"And why YOU got booted from the press office." Han surmised, "It's not just the Jedi, but also anyone who can use the Force..."

Leia was quiet for a moment, but Han could hear something in the silence that made it quite clear she was worried about something.

"Leia?"

Leia got out of her chair, in an almost business-like manner, striding towards the door with a kind of attitude that told Han they were both going out, come Hell or high water.

"We're going to go see the CMC." She said, abruptly, "If the last few weeks are the same as ever, she doesn't keep an eye on HoloCasts because she has no connection to the HoloNet. She won't know about these new incidents." Leia was out the door as she explained, but Han felt like he was still jogging to keep up with her sedate walk.

"And we're going to tell her, because?"

Leia stopped and turned to give Han one of the most venomous looks he would ever see from his wife's eyes.

"If she doesn't know that a strange, unknown killer is going around, murdering people in ways that can't be explained, understood, or stopped..." Leia said, severely, "How is she supposed to protect anyone in that house?"

Han shrugged.

"Dunno. Don't care." Leia gave him a dirty look.

"Han?"

"Yeah?"

"Ben is IN that house!"

"...Shit!"

* * *

"Even if that's the case..." Ben said, slowly.

Ouduar waited, before Ben started to shout.

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO COME!"

Ouduar covered his ears with his hands, but otherwise showed no displeasure at being yelled at. After Ben's lungs ran out of air, Ouduar took his hands off his ears, only to shove them into his pockets and rummage for something.

"That person said that I will be your protector from now on. That does imply that I did have to come." He said, seemingly finding something and pulling out a white box with a label on the side that Ben couldn't see or read. Ben continued to argue.

"I don't care! I'm not a baby- I can take care of myself!" Ben was fully aware that he really couldn't but didn't really care about that- it was the principle of the matter, "And anyway, I REALLY don't want to be anywhere near you after how weird you are. After that weird stuff you said to me- who says things like that so casually, anyway? It's not NORMAL!"

Ouduar shook the box a little and a thin, white cylinder poked out of the end.

"But... it's the truth." He said, simply. This just made Ben even angrier.

"BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO SAY IT! FOR ONE THING, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME- HOW CAN YOU JUST GO UP TO A STRANGER AND SAY 'I LOVE YOU' RIGHT OFF THE BAT? THAT'S NOT SOMETHING YOU CAN SAY SO EASILY! AND WE'RE BOTH GUYS, IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED!"

Ouduar shrugged, then lifted the box to his face, pulling the cylinder out completely with his teeth.

"That's no reason for me to lie." He said, vaguely. Ben rolled his eyes, making a noise to accompany it perfectly.

"It is SO a reason for you to lie- In any case, you're like... what? Twenty years older than me?" Ben demanded, very well aware that the image of a bratty child would only be completed if he were stamping his foot.

"Eight."

Ben had to admit he hadn't seen that coming- He'd thought Ouduar was, at the very least, in his twenties or older, but either way, a full-fledged adult. He certainly didn't act sixteen. The sting of being corrected only made it worse, which only made Ben even madder.

"Either WAY!" Ben snapped, feeling very bad-tempered, "Stop SAYING it. It gives me the creeps."

Ouduar's hand went back to his pocket and this time came out with a small, metal rectangle. He flipped it so half came off on a hinge and a flame lit up, before bringing the flame to the little cylinder caught between his teeth.

"As you wish."

Ben continued to glare at Ouduar, trying to think if there was some way he could convince this weirdo to go back to the House and just leave him alone, before Ouduar put away his lighter and checked the chrono on his wrist.

"We'd best hurry- it's quite a walk." And started to walk in the direction of the city. Ben made a face, but jogged after him, not about to get left behind or anything like that. Still, standing behind this guy meant that Ben was staring up at his blue, almost-black, coat, which somehow made Ben even more uncomfortable.

"...How can you wear that?" Ben finally asked, keeping his distance enough that if Ouduar tried to reach back and do anything, he'd at least have to give Ben some sort of warning. Ouduar looked back over his shoulder, smoke from the tobacco stick curling around his face and fogging up his spectacles.

"...Well, it's pretty simple- Just take the coat off the hangar and..." Ben made his best disgusted face, which must have been good this time because Ouduar shut up.

"Not THAT. How can you STAND it? Aren't you... sweltering in that?" Ben rephrased, pointing at the long trenchcoat that was just barely sweeping the tops of Ouduar's boots. Ouduar's spectacles flashed as he tilted his head, but Ben could tell he was blinking behind the clouded glass.

"Actually, it's kind of chilly- I should have brought a thicker coat."

Ben stopped in his tracks and outright gaped at Ouduar, who continued to walk. After a moment of recovering, Ben started to walk again to reclaim lost ground before finally catching up with Ouduar and walking in his shadow. At least that was some relief from the heat, but it was still annoying.

It was just as they got out of the Works that it became obvious why Ouduar had been assigned the role of 'Protector'. As well as how astute of a selection had been made when looking for someone to fill the role.

Ben wasn't sure entirely what happened, but a moment after he heard the crash, he found himself well over five meters away from where the broken reactor engine had fallen and smashed on the ground, cradled safely in Ouduar's arms. He had to blink for a moment before realizing that Ouduar must have seen it start to fall and at that point, he'd moved Ben out of the line of fire. Furthermore, had he not been moved, that reactor, old and rusted over as it was, would have still crushed the both of them.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that, for Ouduar to notice and take appropriate action before Ben had even realized that they had been in any danger whatsoever, he had to be very, very fast. Fast enough that he'd dropped his tobacco stick- Ben could see it just barely poking out from under the broken engine.

"...Wow..." Ben muttered, but Ouduar wasn't looking at him- in fact, Ouduar was glaring up at the top of the decayed building the reactor had fallen off of.

"Someone's up there. Watching us." He said in a low voice.

"Eh?" Ben blinked and looked up in the same direction, but the light from the sun was glaring off of the metal buildings and debris everywhere that he couldn't see anything. Even shielding his eyes, Ben couldn't see clearly beyond five stories up, while the building had to be at least twenty. How Ouduar could see was beyond him, especially with those spectacles of his.

"...How do you know?" Ben finally asked, his curiosity aching to be satisfied and completely driving from his mind the fact that he didn't particularly trust Ouduar or that he was in particular proximity.

"I don't." Ouduar said, simply. He was still glaring up at the building, but obviously knew when Ben frowned at him.

"Then how can you say stuff like that?" Ben asked, tugging on the turned-down collar of Ouduar's trenchcoat. The other boy still didn't look down, his eyes moving back and forth along the buildings- Ben finally realized that he was scanning for whoever he had declared to be 'Watching' them.

"Because it's the truth."

Ben continued to blink for a moment, brain trying to wrap itself around the paradox of those two statements, before he gave up, or at least put it on hold, as his chrono beeped, signaling that they still had an hour left before they had to be at the Dantes' apartment. And before he realized Ouduar was still holding him well off the ground.

"...Um... I can walk, you know." Ben finally managed. Ouduar's attention was diverted from the hunt for their stalker, at least momentarily, for him to smile as his glasses flashed and hid his eyes, and thus the entirety of his expression, from view.

"Let me hold you a little longer."

"Put me down. Now."

"As you wish."

* * *

Jaina tapped her foot against the floor, waiting for the doors to open. Patience never had been one of her better virtues. When the lesson of patience was pitted against her need for urgency, such as when she received the call from the Masters to report to the Temple for a mission assignment, it irked her to no end that she would be kept waiting for any amount of time.

"Jaina, what're you doing here?" Jaina snapped around in surprise to see Zekk standing right behind her, staring at the door. Jaina blinked, but regained her composure.

"Um... Don't know, really, Zekk... did the Masters call you?" She asked, tilting her head. Zekk rolled his eyes a little, but didn't deny it.

"You too, huh?" He asked, sidling around and stepping up next to her, still staring at the door, "I wasn't told anything about what it was, except that it was urgent."

Jaina, having been told exactly the same thing in her message, thought through the different scenarios which the High Council would deem to be 'urgent', before raising an eyebrow at Zekk.

"Think it might have something to do with those recent murders? I know Masters Skywalker had already been called out on investigating those. And since the public is already aware of those two, it's just a back-up precaution, like to trip up the killers if they try to off the Jedi?"

Zekk didn't look convinced.

"Couldn't they do that over comm? Why pull a big meeting like this for that kind of an assignment? Meetings and council sessions can be spied on." He mused. If Jaina hadn't been so impatient and curious herself, she would have thought how impractical it was that they were discussing this when they could so very easily find out in just a few minutes.

"But comm calls can be hacked and listened in on."

"But we'd still have facial anonymity- if whoever hacks doesn't know us already, at least they wouldn't know what we looked like. A gathering like this reveals so much more information if someone chose to spy."

Jaina opened her mouth to argue before it occurred to her that Zekk... normally didn't talk like this. And usually wasn't this analytical or sharp on such matters as internal security. With a frown she gave Zekk a glance, only to see that he had been glancing at her with an almost hopeful look.

"You've been talking to Jag."

Zekk did his best to look innocent.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He said. Jaina scowled.

"You have- only a Chiss commander of a flight squadron would be that analytical of such a situation." Jaina said, "And, anyway, you'd never think in terms of someone spying on us."

"Are you saying I'm stupid?" Zekk asked, at least having the sense to look offended. Jaina shrugged, remorselessly.

"Maybe- you don't have the kind of experience necessary to think that far ahead in terms of stealth, nor do you have the right personality. If you think that equates to calling you stupid, then yes." Jaina replied, coolly, but not meaning a syllable of it. Everything that had been happening lately- trying to help Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara with Ben, Jacen's increasing distance, the terse situation that her parents seemed to be hiding, the Dark Nest Crisis, and the CMC in general- everything had been so nerve-wracking that Jaina wanted to pull her hair out.

Friendly, casual banter with Zekk, while not something she liked to do, was comfortable and familiar. Something she could predict, something that didn't have to be a contest, with all the importance on winning, something that she could control and, if she so chose, she could lose without anyone having to die or suffer.

Zekk didn't say anything to that. Either he knew that something was bothering Jaina and he also knew her well enough to know not to call her out on it, or he didn't and was uncomfortable at being teased, because he changed the subject.

"So... where'd they call you from? Sparring? Solo matinée? Fancy dinner with a Chiss pilot whom shall remain nameless?" Zekk said, fidgeting on the spot, as though he wanted to pace, but couldn't and was doing the best he could to stay rooted.

Jaina shrugged.

"Research. I was checking up some old dates in the archives and trying to find a name or something." She said, noncommittally. Zekk regarded her answer with a similar air.

"Oh? What for?"

"Heard my parents talking about something- they weren't mentioning names, but they said something about 'Thirty years ago'. Sounded worried, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to get a general feel for what was going on back then."

"Ah."

There was a pause.

"Anything serious?"

Jaina couldn't answer for a long time, the word 'serious' somehow resounding in her ears. Was this whole situation- just a few words overheard, possibly and quite easily misinterpreted- really worth getting worked up over, enough to launch an investigation into the past? And even if there was something to be dug up, what good would it do? Thirty years... that was a long time to pass- the best result would be that information would be gained.

Still, her parents had been talking about people dying, and not only that, but both her parents had sounded particularly anxious to have the deaths hushed up. They'd even mentioned someone only thirteen years old dying- just a kid, only a few years older than Ben... didn't this poor, unnamed bastard, whoever he'd been, deserve the decency to have the truth, whatever it was, be known even if he couldn't be given justice?

"Not especially." Even to her own ears, the words sounded hollow.

Before Zekk could open his mouth to reply, the door opened. It was Master Durron.

"Jedi Solo- I'm glad you're prompt." He said, mostly ignoring Zekk. Jaina blinked a little, but thought little of it, ready for Master Durron's orders. There had to be a reason, and it wasn't important at the moment.

"The Council summoned me." She replied, simply. Master Durron frowned a little, but Jaina got the impression it was more from annoyance with the Council than confusion or displeasure.

"They summoned the two of you, yes- but the mission you two are about to be assigned is not to be on record."

Jaina blinked and could almost hear Zekk doing the same right next to her.

Oh, this couldn't be good.

* * *

A/N: Just something I'd like to note about that last scene- how the HELL do people address Zekk, aside from 'Hey, you'? I mean, seriously, isn't he 'Master'- or 'Jedi'- something? That was why, for my own sanity, Kyp doesn't address Zekk like he does Jaina. If anyone could help me out, it would be GREATLY appreciated.

* * *

While the humming of the machines didn't quite bother him, Gornash couldn't deny that it disturbed him the way that wires trailed from his Master's skin. The perverse melding of flesh and machine was obviously never meant to be, in fact, it looked almost like the computer was somehow murdering the boy with how all His visible skin was penetrated with wires and plugs- hands, arms, elbows, shoulders, feet, legs, knees, neck, face, and some even burrowed under His scalp, weaving through His hair. It was so inherently wrong for a Human to be connected to a computer in this manner, except for the fact that He made it seem so NATURAL. Even though it wasn't.

Or maybe it was. With his Master, nothing could surprise Gornash.

"Artoo is just as good as he ever was. Everything is here." There was no screen in the room, but Gornash knew that his Master was seeing everything on the computer, anyway. It was one of the effects of being directly melded with the machine.

"Everything, Milord?" He asked. His Master didn't answer, but continued to speak, more to Himself.

"There are even some things that I did not ask for... Interesting... I do not think anyone else except this little droid had access to this scene..." His Master's eyes were closed and hidden under a chip of software that was being suspended just centimeters over his nose by dozens of little wires going into His face.

Gornash was used to it enough that he didn't worry if his Master would have marks or scars, but it still made him flinch to look at it. Enough that he was able to wonder what it was his Master was seeing without His eyes.

"Commander Skywalker probably does not know about this, even..." His Master mused, but Gornash could tell that He was now speaking for the benefit of the poor, beleaguered valet responsible for his Master's well-being, "This is unusual footage- but precious. Nobody else ever managed to find a documented event between these two..."

Ah, so THAT'S what it was.

"Milord, you should have something to eat. If you keep this up, you'll need that wig for more reason than just one." He said, holding out a cup of tea with enough sugar added that it constituted as food instead of drink. His Master didn't acknowledge it, except to say,

"A little starvation is not going to kill me." Gornash, knowing his Master intimately enough to know all the points of that simple statement that were inherently off, refrained from replying except to insist.

"Please. You've been pale, and you'll need some source of energy for all the work you have coming." He stepped closer, holding the cup more directly under his Master's nose.

"Gornash, you worry more than my parents did." His Master said, smugly.

Not hard to do, Gornash mused, given that his Master had only had them for a few weeks that he could remember, enough that they actually were present enough to worry. Compared to the years between the two of them, it was only natural that he would worry more. He had more opportunity

"One of the perks of the job, sire."

His Master reached up and pushed the chip out of His eyes, opening them and shooting a gaze straight into Gornash's eyes. In the blinking lights of the computer terminals and control buttons, the gray glowed blue like a monitor.

After a long, contemplative moment, his Master lifted a hand and took the cup by its handle in His very fingertips and began to sip. His eyes slid shut again and the chip fell back into place. It almost looked like a masquerade mask made from silicone, wires, and chips.

"Have I told you lately..." His Master began, quietly, "That you make the greatest tea this side of the Dune Sea?"

Gornash blinked a little, then raised his eyes to the ceiling, trying to recall any instance in the past few days or weeks that he had heard those words. After a moment, Gornash had to concede that he had not heard this praise lately.

"I don't believe you have, Milord..."

"Well, you do." There was a lingering sound as though He was going to add 'So there' to the end of His statement, but it remained unsaid. Unsaid, but not necessarily unheard.

"Thank you, Milord."

"It is odd..." Gornash wondered if his Master was deliberately delaying the drinking of His cup beyond a taste, "...But ever since that incident... I have always despised the drink and yet, you brew a cup that I cannot refuse."

Gornash considered his first response, bit it back, considered his second, bit that one back too, and finally decided on his third response,

"Even with one hand, Milord?"

There was a pause.

"Yes, even with one hand... you are not using that injured one, right?" He asked, at last. Gornash indicated his injured hand, still in the sling and bandaged so heavily that he could no more have lifted a toothpick, let alone a kettle of tea, "Good."

"Milord?"

"If you lose a hand, how the devil do you expect to tie my shoelaces?"

Gornash didn't need to wait- he had a response ready the minute the question had formed in his Master's mind.

"With one hand, I suppose."

His Master said nothing after that. Then the door slammed open and a female voice shouted into the room,

"I! AM! BORED!" Gornash didn't even look over to see the speaker- there was only one person like that in the Household.

"Milady, I believe it is customary to announce yourself before entering the room- it's called 'Knocking'." He said, curtly, but she didn't listen to him, immediately demanding why she'd been left behind while THEY had gone off to the Unknown Regions and had an adventure without her, AGAIN.

"If you want adventures, Oh-Neh, you may have them. With my blessing." Gornash heard his Master say from His reclined chair. How He could talk through the wires was anyone's guess, "In the meantime, there is work to be done. Go elsewhere. Why do you not go check on Ouduar's mother? He is out, today- I am sure he would be most appreciative."

The Lady left the room, though huffily, and his Master returned to his work. With a frown, Gornash stepped behind his Master's chair.

"What are you looking at, Milord?"

"Data concerning the cloning experiments- it will be needed for UnuThul's Wish."

* * *

"_You had a request to make of me." Excellency said, simply. UnuThul sat down, feeling the shame of all of the Kind bearing down upon him. It was as though he had failed- A dark Jedi had been controlling not only him, but the entire species of Killiks for however long now, and it was because he, as Raynar Thul, had shown mercy to that person._

"_We..." UnuThul stopped, then started again, "I did..."_

"_Why are you coming to me, then?" It wasn't a demand as though to ask 'Why am I wasting my time with you?' It seemed closer to her way of asking 'Have you thought this through clearly enough?'_

"_...We..." UnuThul stopped himself, again, and then restarted his sentence, "I... Know that this is not something w- I can do on... alone." Excellency's expression urged him to continue, "...I know I do not have the ability to right the wrongs that I have done... because I am not even sure that I understand fully what I have done wrong."_

_Excellency was quiet, watching him, as though seeking an imperfection in his confession._

"_You don't understand what you have done wrong, you say?" Excellency asked. Somehow, it didn't sound like a question. UnuThul nodded._

"_Would you want to know?" UnuThul continued to stare down at his hands._

"_...If that is what can... help..." He said, slowly. 'Help' was the best word he could think to use._

_Excellency did not reply to him for a long, long time, before she sighed._

"_To understand what you have done wrong, you must first understand this- not as UnuThul, but as your old self. The sleeping soul inside of you, the soul that you thought was long dead and buried, the man known as Raynar Thul, must understand what HE has done wrong." She said, slowly._

_Raynar Thul... This whole time, UnuThul had insisted that Raynar Thul was dead. After all, he remembered nothing of his life as Raynar- he only remembered what the Unu remembered. If the Unu remembered Raynar Thul's past, that was not him, that was the Unu. And he was the Unu. They all remembered._

_Still, the mention of the name seemed to... stir something in him._

"_What... he has done wrong?" UnuThul asked, cautiously. Excellency nodded._

"_Raynar Thul made a very serious mistake by coming into the Killik society. To him, it seemed harmless, even helpful, because he was bringing in a completely different set of values and memories that would become the Nest's upon his Joining." Excellency said, though, to her credit, she didn't speak slowly, as though talking to a three-year old, "But you already know that."_

_UnuThul nodded._

"_The problem lies in the values that he brought- the key of which is the value of individual life. For Human society and communes of other sentient beings, this value has no real harm, because it benefits the residents of the community. The reason for this, though, is because Humans HAVE individuals to value. But, again, you know that already."_

_Again, UnuThul nodded._

"_For Killiks, however, that value does not have any real use. In a Killik hive, the individual is the nest and the nest is the individual. In other words, there IS no such thing as an individual among the Kind. They are all one." Excellency continued, those haunting gray eyes of hers seeming to glow silver in the dimly litten room, "Because of this, they have no need to value specific individuals. This allows them to act in a way that is beneficial to the Hive, while individuals detract from the good of the Hive. Yet again, this is something you already know."_

_UnuThul could only continue to nod. He knew all this already... perhaps she was waiting for him to get impatient or angry? Or was this something else?_

"_You do not see the problem already?" Excellency sounded slightly irked as she asked this question. UnuThul looked up from where he had been staring down at his hands utterly confused._

"_...We... I am afraid not..." He said, slowly. Excellency sighed, then leaned back in her own chair._

"_The Killiks, having a hive mentality, have no use for a value which places single beings over the good of the Hive. They aren't MEANT to think that way- that's how they've evolved, in order to survive. Because Hive-minded species such as Killiks do not have any individual minds or personalities, there is nothing lost if a weak, sick, old, or injured Killik dies- they can feed the body to the young and thus, the species continues on. Raynar Thul's presence utterly ruined their ability to control their own populations, which is harming the Nests because, since they suddenly have the responsibility to care for their sick and injured, there is not enough food to go around." Excellency stood and paced around the table until she was right next to him, looking for all the world like a mother disappointed with her child for not knowing better than to steal from the cookie jar._

_UnuThul simply stared up at her, completely aghast and struck dumb at the speech. How did this woman know so much more about the Killiks than he did? He was one of the Unu- He was of the Kind, he knew his Kind better than anyone. How did an outsider know so much? Well, at any rate, it couldn't be true- this person obviously didn't understand. She couldn't._

"_The Unu learned from Raynar Thul what importance individuals have. We improved. We are better now than we were before." He said, firmly. This person obviously couldn't know what she was talking about. Excellency's look changed from disappointed to scornful, almost mocking._

"_What all of you ARE is either starving to death or suffocating because it is so crowded- there are too many Unu, and that is what is causing your problems. You say that the Unu learned the value of individuals- that would be admirable, except there is no difference between the crowd and the individual in a hive mind." Excellency spat- it almost seemed impossible for that verb to be applicable, but there was no other way to describe the disgust in her voice- before she continued, "The reason that Humans hold life to be sacred is because they value individuals. When a person dies, the traits and abilities that defined them as a person are lost. When a single Killik dies, all that is lost is a pair of hands. The Unu did not improve when Raynar Thul was absorbed into the Nest- the coming of Raynar Thul is what started the spiral downward that has led you to the mess you are in now."_

"_Shut up!" UnuThul wasn't sure if he was the person who had shouted- it sounded like him and he could feel his mouth moving and his throat quivering... but it couldn't be him, "Shut up! You understand nothing about what we have been going through..." Where had THAT come from? Been through? There was nothing he had..._

"_Is that the truth?" Excellency asked, those haunting eyes of hers fixed on his face, "You really think that I understand nothing? It is you who does not understand- somebody selfish like you, who is willing to come and ask for help, but refuses to accept what he has done wrong when it is causing problems like this..."_

_There was something about her words that made UnuThul feel like there was something under his skin, crawling, trying to claw it's way out- it wasn't like the feeling of insects crawling around under his skin or on it... it was like a snake, with sharp scales on it's back, trying to either worm its way deeper to take control of him, or trying to tear him open so it could get out._

"_People like you are the worst, Raynar Thul."_

_For the first time in years, Raynar Thul found himself blinking and sitting and pondering what he was doing, sitting here with this woman glaring down at him._

_Yes... he was Raynar Thul._

"_Are you listening to me now, Raynar Thul?" Excellency asked._

"_Yes, I am." He replied. And he was._

"_Then tell me..." Excellency reached out and took his chin in her fingertips, leaning over him almost like a vulture, except Raynar was quite convinced that vultures were not as gentle as she was being, "What is your Wish?"_

"_...I..." Raynar swallowed hard and could have sworn he felt his pride going down with it, "I want... to give the Killiks a new leader... who will help lead them... back to how they were meant to be."_

_Excellency smiled._

"_I shall grant your Wish."_

* * *

The Dantes' apartment was quiet when Ben and Ouduar got there- it was two minutes past the time they were supposed to have gotten there, but neither thought it was really that important. Considering that yesterday, the Dantes' had been quiet, anyway, Ben wasn't too worried. As he knocked, tiny footsteps from behind the door sounded before it slid open. Barefoot, hair undone, and still in her pale brown nightgown, Mercedes had answered.

Ben blinked for a moment- they'd gotten there, and they'd checked on Mercedes, so... now what were they supposed to do?

"Selle Mercedes, I presume?" O-kay, so Ouduar could take things from here. That was good... Mercedes blinked at the two of them, but certainly seemed to recognize Ben, because she let them in.

"E-Edmond is to leave a few minutes ago... Want not to go work... until someone to come..." Mercedes spoke in a way that was soft and came out in hesitant gasps, but Ben couldn't tell if it was unsureness or because she was tired or feeling ill. Unsureness seemed very possible- she spoke with a thick accent that he couldn't place, and her Basic seemed off, but there was something else about how she was talking so inaudibly that made Ben wonder if there was something wrong.

"So, you at least knew that we would be here?" Ouduar asked, making himself comfortable on the floor. Mercedes blinked at him, then sat down, herself, using one arm to balance her round tummy. Ben almost started forward, but paused, uncertain if he was supposed to help her or anything.

"...Am telling to that Excellency sends check-up today... Being sure someone always with me until baby to come." Mercedes said, slowly. Ben cast her belly a bit of a strange look, but mostly kept his surprise concealed before he asked, slowly.

"Who is telling to you?" It was the best way he could think for her to understand- she REALLY had problems with her Basic. Mercedes blinked a little, but answered.

"Excellency is telling. Says to be in need of care." She explained, if somewhat jerkily. So, the Countess had told her yesterday that someone would be sent over to watch her in case of an emergency. This, he and Ouduar had done. Now what?

Ben flopped down on the floor, looking back and forth between Mercedes and Ouduar, waiting for one of them to come up with a suggestion as to what they would be doing.

"That person told you about us..." Ouduar said. It wasn't a question, and Ouduar didn't look confused or distracted. It was more ambiguous than anything, the way Ouduar said it. Mercedes simply sat there, quiet and timid, as though she expected something else.

Really, Ben didn't know what was worse- the tense silence of antimosity that he'd gotten yesterday from Dantes, or the uncomfortable silence that the two of them were getting from Mercedes.

"So-o..." Ben fumbled, feeling incredibly stupid. He almost felt like he was intruding, even though he had been invited in through the front door. Wasn't there something Mercedes was supposed to be doing, like... chores in the house or something, while her brother was at work? He found it hard to believe that Mercedes did absolutely nothing while Dantes was at the bank, "Um... you don't need to... entertain us or anything... we're not guests..."

Mercedes' Basic apparently failed her at that moment, because she continued to sit there, almost like an expectant, obedient wife waiting on her husband, blinking at him. Ben felt his ears getting hotter with embarrassment, before he tried again, speaking slower and using superfluous hand motions.

"You..." He pointed, "No need to sit here..." Ben gestured to himself and Ouduar and the floor, "Can go... do what you need to..." Mercedes continued to sit and stare, blinking in a manner like a puppy being trained to fetch or roll over, but still not being old enough to understand the commands. Ben ground his teeth in frustration.

The silence was disturbed as Ouduar reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a cylinder of something with pegs sticking out of the ends, before there was a small rip and Ouduar unrolled the sheet of paper. Ben could practically hear Mercedes blinking at Ouduar, the room was so silent, as the other boy pulled a tube from his pocket as well as a tiny brush, which Ouduar held between his teeth as he unscrewed the cap of the tube. Curiosity piqued, Ben leaned forward, resting his hands on his crossed ankles as he stared, bug-eyed, at what Ouduar was doing. A drop of something black came out of the end of the tube, landing on the paper where Ouduar had aimed it, before Ouduar took his brush from his teeth.

Ben blinked and when he opened his eyes, Ouduar had already painted three figures in a single stroke.

By the time he was done, it was perfectly obvious that Ouduar was attempting to communicate with Mercedes over the language gap, or at least get it across to her that himself and Ben didn't need to be waited on like guests. Mercedes seemed to take this fairly well, but continued to sit with them, looking for the world as though there was nothing she'd rather do.

"Nothing to do. To have no mess... Can not to cook... Be nothing to clean." She said, pointing around the apartment. Ben's eyes followed where she pointed, and it actually made some sense- Mercedes and her brother obviously had nothing to make a mess with, so there was nothing to clean, and in any case, they probably didn't have anything to clean it WITH. Then, with food, Ben had the sneaking suspicion that Dantes never bought anything that needed to be kept chilled, since they had no cooler. Which probably meant everything they had was either instantly prepared with adding water, prepackaged, or brought home by Dantes on his way back from work.

So... no cooking then.

"O-kay... so, you just sit here all day, then?" Ben asked, frowning. It was stupid, but he really didn't see anything else to do. Mercedes looked at him, and there was something in those dark eyes of hers that almost seemed hurt.

"...Am... to obey." She said, slowly, as though this should have been obvious. Ben frowned, so Mercedes continued, "Excellency is... to command... Am not to do anything... Heart not to beat so much."

Ben screwed up his face as best he could, but Ouduar certainly seemed to understand it, because he rolled up his scroll of paper and put the ink away.

"That person told her not to get her blood pressure up. She's supposed to be resting." He explained when Ben turned his confused expression on Ouduar. Ben wrinkled his nose but turned back to Mercedes with a reasonably kind expression. Mercedes continued to sit and stare, looking between the two of them with a politely confused expression.

Ben fidgeted for a few more minutes before looking at Mercedes and smiling, awkwardly, again. She smiled back, but the gaze was quickly broken as Ben went back to embarrassedly staring at the walls, pretending to be overly interested in the pattern that the texture made. Ouduar was sitting, quietly, with his legs folded and his head nodding onto his chest. Mercedes continued to watch them, as though they were aliens in her own little world.

It didn't even occur to Ben that, out of the three of them, nobody was even a legal adult. This would look very BAD if a landlord or manager or salesman decided to show up at the door.

"So..." Ben said, slowly, examining the window and the dust that the beam of light from it revealed in the room, "...Where are you from?"

Mercedes continued to blink at him, curiously, before Ben remembered that she didn't speak Basic so well and attempted to communicate his question more clearly. Not even Ouduar's picture writing would be able to convey the question 'What planet are you from?'

Somehow, however clumsily, Mercedes seemed to understand the question eventually.

"Am to be born on here." She said, putting her hand down on the floor as though to indicate something below them, "Madre is coming. Padre is bringing and Edmond." Ben kept blinking, but was beginning to get used to her way of speaking.

"...So... you were born here... but your PARENTS came here from somewhere else?" It was Mercedes' turn to blink. Ben groaned- more like snarled, for the sound that came out from between his teeth- and started to pull on his hair with agitation. Ouduar continued to sit by and watch, completely uncaring. Ben righted himself and tried again.

"Your parents... came here... before you born?" He asked, slowly. Mercedes continued to blink, but she did seem to be honestly trying to understand him. After a moment, she rose her eyes to the ceiling and then nodded, slowly. Ben let out a sigh of relief.

"Where from? Your parents... from what planet?" Mercedes paused to think again, before frowning a little.

Then, she pressed a finger to her lower lip, pondering. Ben kept staring, before it occurred to him- had she known her parents? After all, they obviously weren't here, taking care of her and her brother. It made Ben wonder if Mercedes had known them long enough to be told what planet they had come from. Or if this was just her difficulty with the language that was making her hesitate?

"Edmond... is telling... planet to be called 'Calipsa'." Mercedes said, slowly, using her finger to draw a circle in the air.

"Oh."

Silence.

"So... when's Edmond coming home? Did he say?" Ben asked. Mercedes tilted her head, then pointed out the window. Ben's gaze followed her hand, looking at the small patch of pale blue sky that the ten o'clock sun produced and could be seen between the other buildings outside the Dante's apartment.

"Edmond to be working until to be orange." Mercedes said, blinking innocently. Ben felt his eyes bug out of his skull.

Great- so they were going to be at this apartment, just in case an emergency happened, the likelihood of which was very low, the oldest person in the room being sixteen, with a fourteen year old who was pregnant and didn't even speak or understand proper Basic enough to hold a real conversation, for the entire day, or at least until the sun started going down.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

It had just been a hell of a day, right from the start. Luke was starting to wonder if he was slow for only just now realizing this.

The start of the day had been to come down to the Bureau of Investigations, with whom they would apparently be working until the culprit behind these unusual murders could be caught. Upon reaching the Bureau, several dozen different security restrictions had to be passed, many of which involved several different forms of identification, searches, fingerprinting, and even a toxin screening. Then, of course, once inside, the select investigators who were handling the case were suspicious, sharp, over-secretive, and entirely too happy to make himself and Mara jump through hoops just to understand what they were going to be doing.

It had only gotten worse as the day went on- there was a kind of lethargy and heavy-headedness that Luke couldn't shake off. Mara had noticed it a little past noon and passed him some cafe, but that had done nothing, aside from give him a rise and then a crash. Now he felt even more drained than ever. The fact that they had gotten absolutely nothing accomplished that day made it even worse, and it wasn't just because of Luke's inability to wake up. At about sixteen hundred hours, Mara had come to the conclusion that the investigators in the Bureau were just yanking on their chains and wasting their time- possibly even stalling for time so they didn't have to be paid or something stupid like that.

It was at that exact moment that the chief of investigators overheard and decided that they didn't need uncooperative Jedi just lounging around the office if they weren't going to help.

As soon as they had been 'excused' from the Bureau, Mara had said a few choice words that Luke was fairly certain would have gotten them much more forcibly ejected if any investigators had heard them. For his part, Luke wanted nothing to do with this investigation, if it weren't for the fact that innocent people were losing their lives. But even that didn't seem able to keep him upright- everything was unfocused and spinning, nothing staying in place long enough for him to see it clearly, let alone make any sense of it. Nothing was clear enough or distinct enough to even really plant itself into his memory- as though he were reading his day off of a story instead of living it, himself.

Luke didn't even hear it clearly when Mara called out his name, nor really felt it as she caught him before he hit the sidewalk as he fainted dead away.

"_And you've got to prove yourself strong enough to do the same, too."_

"_And what if I'm not strong enough?"_

"_You will be."_

A/N: The reason this chapter took so damn long was either A) Work, B) Moving day, C) Fall semester classes beginning, D) Lack of Internet connection, E) Janson!muse depression because nobody's responded to his poll and thus, feels like nobody loves him, or F) All of the above. You guys are smart. Figure it out.

Keep your eye on the Dantes'- they're important.


	23. Part II: Chapter 10

CMC

Part II: Gottesfurcht

By: Sapadu

A/N: Would it really hurt to throw me a bone every once in a while? I don't ask that often...

Point taken. Here'sa next chapter. Hope you enjoy. For extra credit, see if you can guess which major cable show I've been watching too much of for these next few chapters.

Chapter 10:

"Master Skywalker has no signs of disease, nor internal injuries. I'm afraid no one on staff can really explain why his condition is worsening- I'll try to find a different medic, but for now, there's nothing I can do, Mrs. Skywalker."

Mara scowled at the medic delivering the news- she didn't care if she was just shooting the messenger, especially since the messenger COULD have been in that room saving her husband from going into a coma or whatever. Worry and urgency seemed to boil together in the cauldron that was her heart, caramelizing into aggravation with the current medical staff. The first place she'd taken Luke after he'd collapsed was to Cighal, whom hadn't been able to diagnose what was wrong with him. Her suggestion from there had been to go to a normal medcenter and seek an opinion from a different medic, given that her relationship with Master Skywalker might have been clouding her judgment and senses in treating her old master.

It had sounded a lot more reasonable coming from Cighal than in Mara's head or when she'd tried to explain it to the medic who had asked why the Grand Jedi Masters were in a normal clinic.

In the time between Luke's collapse outside the Bureau of Investigations and how long it had taken Mara to get him to the Jedi Temple, he seemed to have gone into a coma of sorts. At any rate, that's what Cighal's brain-mapper had shown, and his heart rate had slown down, almost as though he were hibernating. Then, during transport to take Luke to the Couruscanti medcenter, the monitors had started buzzing- Mara was no expert in the field of medicine, but she was fairly certain that loud, continuous beeping and buzzing was a sign that all was not well- and the medics had strapped an oxygen mask over Luke's face.

It had taken every ounce of self-restraint that Mara had to not pull her lightsaber on the medics when they could not answer her demand of what was wrong. It was taking just that much self control now to not do the same, as Luke lay asleep in the room just barely separated from her by the glass doors, air mask and several IV needles strapped onto him to keep his body functioning properly.

"...Did you need me to sign off on a treatment or something? Because if you DON'T, go back to treating him." She snapped. The medic raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, quite apparently used to angry family members of patients.

As soon as she was deprived of anyone to take her frustration out on, Mara flopped into a chair and put her fingers to her forehead to massage her temples. It was time to think logically- while Mara wasn't a medic by any stretch of imagination, she HAD had medical training to take care of herself, especially for missions in the old days as Emperor's hand. There were poisons, but the medics had run tox screens for those and they came up negative. Diseases were possible, but only so many caused fatigue, fainting spells, and a slowed blood rate that led to comas. Those all had been checked out and off.

It could be autoimmunity, but why would it be cropping up now, when most autoimmunities usually had some signal earlier in life, even if it was mild? And even then, what would be causing it? Something else had to be doing this, and the fact that Mara couldn't think of what it was made her edgy.

Very edgy.

"Master Skywalker?" Mara looked up, knowing the address was for her. Standing next to her, arm secured to a cane, was the same, sandy-haired old man who had watched the two of them being tossed from the bureau. He'd stood off to the side, uninvolved, but unhelpful at the same time, and frankly, Mara had no respect for him, even if he was General Renard Deacon, Commissioner of the Coruscanti Investigation Bureau.

"Just Master Skywalker or were you looking for ME?" She asked, waspishly. Deacon reacted with the same lack of surprise as the medic had, but his calm demeanor seemed more familiar, as though he'd known Mara all his life and was used to her manner and attitude. Needless to say, this was not appreciated.

"Well, lessee... I think I'm looking for a Master Skywalker who has a sick husband, unless, for some reason, the Jedi Order has started allowing divorces." Mara closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, it was to give the man a very dirty look. It was wasted, as he wasn't even looking at her. Mara put her hands over her face again and pressed her fingertips against the pain in her eyebrows.

"What do you want?" She asked. Deacon limped his way over to the chair next to her and carefully sat down, not looking her in the eye.

"Look, what happened today was totally uncalled for and I'm sorry about that, but I can't control the men in charge of the investigation- they aren't under my command." Mara pretended she couldn't hear him, "But I heard what happened to your husband as soon as you got outside... so, I figured I should at least tell you this much..."

Mara parted her fingers just enough for her to stare at him with one eye.

"...If you want, I know a medic who can not only figure out what's wrong with him, but cure him, as well."

That got Mara's attention, all right.

"Why should I trust you about this? And how do I know that this medic is all that great as you say?" She demanded, not letting it show in the least that she wanted some more information- such as this guy's name.

"If that's your infamous indirect way of asking why I'm being so helpful, call it a guilty conscience." Deacon tapped his cane on the floor, somewhat glancing over at Mara as though expecting her to look over at him or at least notice him. Mara continued to look elsewhere, but gave the answer due consideration.

"Okay..." She finally said, slowly. Okay was a good word to use, especially like this- it said that she understood him, and was giving permission for him to move forward, but it didn't necessarily mean she accepted or believed it. Deacon, not being a stupid man, seemed to hear this and went forward as though it were perfectly natural.

"And this medic happened to be the one to cure yours truly of an unusual autoimmune reaction triggered by my heart medication and remove a two and three-quarters kilogram tumor from my left side." Mara remained disinterested- she'd heard of bigger tumors and stranger feats in medicine than just autoimmunities triggered by chemicals, just by reading the HoloNet every morning, "Without even touching me."

Cures without even touching one's patients, however, was a different matter entirely. And it was something that made Mara wonder if he was making it up. She could practically smell something wrong with his words, as though he had eaten a very distinct fish for lunch and it lingered on his breath as he spoke.

"So? This guy's name?" She asked. Deacon didn't look at her, and she didn't look back.

"Medic Orewahime... can be found in the lower levels of Coruscant... Geling district, the Red Avenue Emergency Clinic... Been there for years, since the Clone Wars." Mara sat up, disguising her increasing curiosity as a disinterested stretch. If this guy had been alive during the Clone Wars, that meant he had been alive under Palpatine's rule, both as Chancellor and Emperor, which meant that he either practiced medicine that would not be agreeable with the Jedi or he was very, very good at evading punishment or otherwise staying out of harms way. It also meant he had to be very old.

"Clone Wars? That was a long time ago- you sure this guy's still up to the job?" Mara asked, keeping her voice perfectly dubious and managing to give a perfect excuse for doubting this guy. General Deacon smiled a little, sitting up himself.

"If it makes you feel any better, Medic Orewahime was known as a major name in the medical world by age twelve- last major student under a medic known as Yaddle, head of a few different departments including radiology and gynecology, even allowed a shot at the Chancery Physician by thirteen. Turned it down, though- Hated the Chancellor and his stupid war, and said that people in the lower levels needed the better medics, anyway." Mara didn't try to disguise her interest as disinterest this time, her suspicion quite openly showing as she frowned.

"Major medical name at twelve? Hmm... that's funny, but for some strange reason, I don't believe you." She said, voice bordering on a tone that brought the word 'grating' to mind. Deacon shrugged, rather bravely for a man in his position Mara thought.

"You don't have to- Medic Orewahime will be the first one to tell you that, face to face. Point is, if you're looking for the best of the best, Medic Orewahime is the greatest medic this side of the Dune Sea." Deacon gripped his cane a bit more securely, then swung himself forward and pushed up to stand, "And all the better medics on the other side are all dead." With this Deacon proceeded to limp out of the room, leaving Mara behind, pondering what to do.

* * *

Han and Leia reached the CMC's residence before noon. This would have been a much lesser feat if they hadn't lived at least two hours away from The Works and hadn't left their apartment at eleven hundred and seventy-five hundredths. As the situation lay, however, these were the circumstances and it was no surprise that both were a little winded from Han's impressive piloting skills that left him immune to speeding tickets and accidents which had gotten them there in such a short span.

As expected, the CMC was waiting for them, her butler at her elbow with a hot pot of tea and a serving of polite sarcasm, fresh out of the oven.

"You act like this with all of your guests, or just the really well-known celebrities?" Han asked as he flopped into a chair without being invited. The CMC didn't reply until she'd offered Leia a seat on the other end of the coffee table.

"Guests? You two are just coming as guests? Well, bugger- I thought this was business." She finally asked, but Han heard a tone in her voice that bordered on sarcasm, except it wasn't.

"Nope- we're just here to drink your liquor an' eat your food just 'cuz we like you that much." The CMC's butler leaned over, putting a cup of tea which smelled strongly of Corellian Ale on the table in front of Han, before going around to give Leia and his employer much more normal cups of tea.

"Oh, Captain Solo. You flatterer." These words came out snide, but at the same time friendly.

"In any case, Madame and Mon Solo... I do not believe that this could possibly be a social call..." The woman finally asked, setting down her cup and blinking rather owlishly at Leia. Leia had sighed, but more in the sense that she was exasperated at the woman's overly innocent manner than anything else.

"There's been a recent emergency that neither of us were sure you knew about, given your lack of connection to current events." She explained, slowly. The CMC said nothing, but did lean in towards Leia in a conspiratorial manner, waiting the news with a slight hitch in her breath that almost seemed anxious.

"Emergency?" She asked, quietly, "What kind of emergency?"

Leia's voice was even softer as she explained. Even Han had to lean in- the two were speaking so quietly, as though they thought someone might be listening in on them or something of the sort. Really, it wasn't worth acting like THIS over.

The CMC was quite dutifully shocked as she sat back in her chair, pondering this news that Leia had given her. Even her tea had been abandoned, and given that she'd insisted upon keeping correct teatime even on Yoggoy, it had to be serious if she'd break schedule for this. After a minute of acting concerned and upset, however, she went back to her cup without a single comment for Leia, aside from something along the lines of 'Oh, that's nice.'

Needless to say, Han and Leia did very little except sit and stare at her reaction for several long, silent, awkward moments before the CMC seemed to think they deserved a more thorough explanation. Even if she offered it in a way that was not very informative.

"Gornash... Do you suppose Sieur Ben will be alright?" She finally said. The butler with white hair said nothing, but gave an indication that she needed to extrapolate to make her point clearer, "Being out today- I know he has Ouduar with him, but will that be enough?"

Needless to say, Han was not terribly pleased to hear this.

"You mean he's not HERE?!" He demanded. The CMC blinked rather owlishly at Han.

"Oh, so you would rather I keep your nephew locked up for the number of months that he will be here instead of letting him out to get some fresh air and sunshine?" She asked, honestly sounding innocently curious. Han had to pause for a moment, thinking over that statement as well as how well Ben would react to being kept, to use her words for it, 'locked up'.

"Point taken." He finally amended, sitting back down.

"But in any case- I was not aware of these recent events. I sincerely thank you two for the concern- is there anything I can do to properly express my gratitude?" The CMC continued, pushing her teacup to the side for her butler to take away. Han resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if only because he didn't want to be met with the business end of the CMC's butler's gun. Seriously, how many times did this woman need to 'express gratitude' for just a little thing? Did she send thank you cards to the man who sold her her shoes, saying she'd cherish them forever or something?

Leia continued sipping her tea, sounding rather loud compared to Han and the CMC, which of course meant there was something else she wanted to ask, but didn't want to SAY that she wanted to ask it. Han knew- that was just the way Leia was.

"Madame Solo? You appear rather consternated?" The CMC asked, with that usual manner of grace and asking questions in a way that made it sound more like a polite, but irrefutable demand.

"It's nothing that pressing- it can wait." Leia replied, coolly, setting down her cup and pressing with other matters, "What of the other members of your household? Are you quite sure they're all safe in this climate? That was, after all, one of your biggest concerns when you first arrived."

"I am flattered that you would remember so far back, Madame, but there is no need for alarm. I am perfectly secure in my knowledge of everyone's safety. If I may say so, myself, this house is probably the safest place one could be during such a frightening crisis."

Leia raised her eyebrows- Han could see the spark of curiosity flaring to a flame in her eyes, and he only knew so well because he knew the same was happening to him.

"What makes you say that, Excellency?" Leia asked, managing to sound so incredibly casual that she almost fooled Han. The CMC shrugged, still with that same smile that wasn't quite a smile, but definitely not a neutral expression.

"Tis but an observation I have made. That is just the way it always seems to turn out." She replied. Han's hands twitched from sitting still for so long as he casually uncrossed, then recrossed his legs to keep his feet from falling asleep.

"...So... serial killers always crop up in the same cities as you decide to put your roots into?" He asked, dubiously, as he reached for the cup of tea that he was sure was now stone cold. He didn't care- Han'd seen how much liquor the CMC's butler had dumped into his particular cup. The CMC reached for her own cup, but paused and shot a look at Han as she made it half-way.

"This may surprise you, Captain, but such things are much more common than you would think." She said, sternly, "Most of the time, the only difference between the real world and a slasher holo-vid is how aware you are of it."

Han felt like a spider was crawling down his spine and leaving a trail of silk as it did so.

"Captain Solo, is something wrong?" The CMC asked, smiling again. Han got the impression that she KNEW something was bothering him and was deliberately goading him about it, but he didn't say that, waiting for her to come out and say something a bit more revealing.

"Nope- just stiff." Han lied. The look on the CMC's face didn't falter- if anything, it seemed to grow.

"The lavatory is just down the hall, if that is what you are too proud to come out and ask." So she WANTED him out of the room. Han shot Leia a glance and was somehow both relieved and even more worried when he saw her meet it. After a moment though, Han excused himself, trusting that Leia would watch herself and, if anything did happen, that she'd tell him about it later.

In the meantime, maybe he could poke around the house and find out a bit more about this crazy lady who called herself the 'CMC'.

It was a creepy house, to be sure- each room was different, except for the vaulted hallways which all gave the impression one was walking around in old, underground catacombs. Whatever windows there were, they were narrow and tall and decorated with dark lead woven into the glass like bars to a cage.

Where were all the rooms, anyway? Han just kept walking, but he didn't see any doors. Was there only one room on this floor, the lounge he'd just left Leia in to talk with the creepy house's creepy owner? He kind of doubted that. Maybe all the rooms were hidden behind, like, a bookshelf that you had to pull a green book and the wall opened up to a lab or something like that.

Han took a turn down a branch off of the hall, deeper into the house and away from the windows that let light in- aparently, not having any source of light to let through them hadn't stopped the CMC from putting windows in these hallways. Even one of the more elaborately decorated windows was pressed right up against a wall. Han started to feel like he was inside a house of mirrors or something crazy like that.

It was as Han made his third left turn and still saw no sign of a room, or even a way back to the other room that he finally found a staircase. It twisted and turned and spiralled, but as Han reached the top, he had to stop short- his head bumped against the ceiling as the staircase rose straight up into a solid roof.

"Who puts a staircase there when it doesn't go anywhere?" Han grumbled to himself as he made his way back around the spiral that led down to the floor.

"Hello, Captain Solo." Said a voice. Han spun around to stare at the speaker- he must have come out from under the curve of the staircase- and freeze as two bright gray eyes bored into his, "It is nice to see you again after so long."

* * *

"While we were gone... apparently something else happened... you remember Winter Celchu, right?" Leia pretended to be hesitant and forgetful, carefully gaging the CMC's reactions, or, as it were, the lack thereof. The CMC merely sipped her tea, not even looking at Leia with that air of false disinterestedness that could be interpreted as not being pressuring, but Leia somehow felt as though there was someone on the other side of the room, watching her.

"I recall meeting her a few times... the first, I believe, was when you introduced her, correct? Is she not the husband of the pilot, Tycho Celchu." The CMC asked. Leia frowned a little, but managed a neutral expression as she replied,

"Was." The CMC raised her eyebrows, then frowned.

"Oh... are they having some kind of marital problems?" She asked, innocently. Leia sighed, as though lamenting.

"...I wouldn't say marital problems." She finally admitted, waiting for the CMC to say SOMEthing that would give herself away. The Countess frowned a little, before a look crossed her face.

"...Oh dear... When you spoke with Madame Winter... did she mention something... anything at all... regarding... the TRADITIONS of marriage?" Leia honestly had to stare at her for a moment, before it occurred to her that the CMC was expecting something of that nature.

"What makes you think she would?" Leia asked, finally, keeping her voice perfectly passive. The CMC's eyes darted elsewhere before she hid behind her teacup again.

"Well... dear Lord, this is embarrassing..." The CMC's voice was muffled by the china, but Leia was patient, "...To be frank, I went to visit the Madame several weeks ago... you recall how she asked me for the medicine for the heatstroke of your pilot that day?" Leia nodded, "Well... in the duration of my visit... the topic of marriage came up... some of the views I expressed may have been a little... liberal... to be euphemistic..."

'I'll bet.' Leia thought, bitterly, but refrained from saying so to the smiling face of doom that sat directly across from her.

"I don't know what you said... but Winter and Tycho aren't separated for a marital reason." The CMC kept blinking. In Leia's opinion, she looked like she had a piece of sand in her eye. "Tycho was a famous captain from the Rogue Squadron... half the galaxy knows his name... I thought you would have noticed the Holocasts..."

"Saying that half the galaxy knows his name implies there's another half who DOESN'T know. Considering that the galaxy is comprised of hundreds of star systems, thousands of civilizations, and billions upon billions of living beings, that makes for millions upon millions of citizens who HAVEN'T heard of... Captain Celchu, was it?"

Leia really wondered for a second if this woman was being honestly dense, before Leia realized the CMC was just sarcastically making a point.

"How did the paramedics say Captain Celchu died?" She finally asked.

Leia's intelligent response was to keep blinking.

"I... I thought you..."

"You assumed I would know by watching the Holocasts, which means it's INCREDIBLY important news, relevant to history itself, given that this man is a war hero. Not only that, but he was also a celebrity, after a fashion, but not so interesting that his every move is monitored. If the media swoops in, one of two things has happened- he's either having an affair and his wife found out, or he's died, leaving an aggrieved widow behind. And you just told me it wasn't marital problems." The CMC didn't meet Leia's eyes as she spoke, instead idly stirring her tea, or whatever was left in that blasted cup. Leia bit her lip for a moment, but did eventually concede that this woman had a point.

"The medical reports said that he died from a concussion- apparently, he had a reaction to his medicine, which made him start to convulse and he hit his head on the table." This news apparently inspired some reaction in the CMC, but it passed so quickly that Leia supposed it was just surprise.

"...There's something you wanted to ask of me... regarding Madame Celchu, is that not so?" The CMC asked, slowly. Leia smiled, slowly and sadly, but surely.

"...Tycho meant a lot to Winter... before they got married, she was always stoic and standoffish, but he was able to help her relax those defenses a little... so, if there was something I could do to help comfort her, at least." Part of it, Leia was sincerely worried and she poured out her concern, trying to nudge against the void that surrounded the CMC. There was also a part of Leia that was just the tiniest bit cautious and wanted to use it to her advantage- that, she suspected, was Han's influence.

The CMC smiled- actually honest-to-Goddamn smiled.

"I must confess a little envy that you and Madame Celchu have such a close friendship." She said, at last. Leia didn't reply, but continued to force her concern and old affection for Winter to the surface, "You would like to do something that would... comfort her? Something to help... take her mind off of the dreary subject, or perhaps help her find a little closure?"

Leia pounced on it.

"Yes- some kind of closure." She agreed. The CMC had a queer sort of smirk tugging at the corner of her lips that Leia could only assume meant she had just the thing in mind.

"Perhaps holding a wake- a special gathering for the family, a few close family friends, any others in particular you might think of that might be welcome. Something that would help finalize the event, but help those left behind to... move past the tragedy." The CMC asked, leaning a little closer. If Leia had seen the two of them talking, she would have scoffed at how much they appeared to be gossiping like sisters.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble- I hate to ask you to do so, but I wouldn't know how to host such a thing, nor where sufficient space would be appropriate..." Leia pretended to be hesitant, but the CMC apparently had been waiting for this.

"You Wish for me to host a gathering?" She couldn't have sounded more delighted with the prospect, "Certainly, on a sole condition." Leia raised her eyebrows, inviting further explanation, "An old business partner of mine contacted me about a week ago- his son is arriving on Coruscant, planning to establish residence, but he has no contacts nor connections to act as a liason, save for myself. He has expressed great interest in meeting yourself and the Captain..."

Oh.

"Well, I would see no reason for you not to invite him to the wake- nothing helps move past the loss of one life as the greeting of a second one." As soon as the words were out, Leia could have thought of a million other ways to put it, much more gracefully, but it did the trick. The CMC smiled that slow, self-assured smile of hers, not even aware that Leia just wanted to see this 'Business partner's son' interact with the lady, herself.

"In that case, I shall just need a guest list of whomever else you should like along for the event, and I'll handle all the arrangements from there..." The CMC was interrupted as she and Leia heard something that sounded almost like Han screaming from down the hall. Leia actually jumped out of her chair and the CMC's head swiveled around. Not a second later, the door swung open with a slam and Han came through at a speed that could have rivaled the Falcon's.

"We're leaving. Like, now." Was all he said, striding over to Leia and grabbing her by the arm with something akin to alarm. Leia didn't have a chance to protest and only barely heard the CMC call that she would send the invitations out as soon as Leia put together a guest list.

"Han, what is wrong with you?" Leia demanded when she finally yanked her arm from his grip, back in the hovercar. Han didn't look at her- he was too busy firing up the engine and getting away from the House, "HAN!"

Han didn't say anything until they were safely back in the Inner City of Coruscant. It was at an intersection that Han leaned forward agaainst the steering controls and took a few deep breaths.

"That house..." He said, slowly, "...There is something very wrong in that house..." Leia waited, patiently, before the light changed and Han had to start concentrating on his flying.

"We've encountered a lot where things are 'Very wrong'. What would make you scream and run like that?" She finally asked, determined to be calm and rational. Han was anything but calm and rational as his hands jerked so violently that they almost hit the pedestrian walk, only barely avoiding it.

"...The kid is in that House." Han finally whispered, staring straight ahead and not meeting Leia's gaze as she gaped at him, "I don't know how- I don't even know if it's a real person... like if it's like what Palpatine kept doing with his clones and repossessing bodies, or if it was one of those ghosts or whatever that you and Luke sometimes see... but he's THERE."

Leia looked back to the view through the windshield as she turned this information over in her head.

"Now that you say it... I hadn't considered clones before, but it WOULD make sense..." She said, slowly. Han didn't look over to her until they had reached their apartment.

"We have to go back there." He finally admitted, "We have to go back to that house and find out what's going on." Leia shrugged.

"I had a feeling you'd want a chance to go back and poke around." She agreed and when Han frowned at her, she explained the CMC's idea about the wake. After a few moments, Han just shook his head and undid his safety restraint and clambored out.

"I had to marry a politician." He muttered.

"I love you, too, you old scoundrel."

* * *

"They just want us to keep observation of Raynar until he's recovered from the Killik influence- how does this require special designation from the Council?" Jaina asked, impatiently. Zekk stretched and relaxed in the chair that Jaina had been occupying until her legs grew too restless.

"Because it's going to take a while, and because we're the most qualified Jedi they have who have also experienced Joining. Look on the bright side- it could be a suicide watch." He noted. Jaina shrugged and kept pacing, trying to calm her mind enough to think logically. It wasn't made any easier with Zekk and Raynar both technically part of her through the Joiner's bond, espeicially since she really wanted to be alone to think about what she'd found so far.

Fact 1: Her parents had been concerned about something, and all this concern had come to the surface at the same time as the arrival of the CMC on Coruscant.

Fact 2: Their concerns had roots in the past, around thirty years ago, based on a conversation she had overheard that they had obviously not wanted overheard.

Fact 3: Thirty years ago had been around the time that the Rebel Alliance had been attempting to restore the Old Republic and still fighting off the Empire Remnants.

Fact 4: There were very few records of any events that weren't considered major history from that time.

Fact 5: Jaina couldn't speculate on information she didn't have.

Fact 6: This frustrated her.

"Maybe it's something that you should ASK people about instead of looking for data in a computer." Zekk suggested. Jaina shot him a glare.

"Maybe I would rather not have my thoughts and emotions spied on, even if it is by an old childhood friend." She snapped. Through the Force, their bond, and Zekk's face, Jaina could tell he was hurt, and she didn't blame him- she almost felt like she'd snapped at herself, the way her voice had felt leaving her throat. Still, he shouldn't have called her out- so what if she hadn't actually asked anyone? If she started asking around, there would be other people who would know she was suspicious of something, and the chances of her parents realizing she suspected something would increase.

But, really, who would make the connection? Thinking like that was just paranoid. And, no matter how you looked at it, there was still very little chance that anyone would know what her parents did. Jaina could solve this without having to run to mommy and daddy for answers.

"...Sorry, Zekk." Jaina finally relented. Zekk blinked at her, but the hurt lessened.

"...'Sokay." He muttered. Jaina looked through the glass into the room Raynar had been isolated in. According to Cighal, he had to relearn how to operate on his own without the Hive mind helping him- part of the damage was a psychological sort of dystrophy, since he hadn't used his own mind for so long. Jaina and Zekk both openly scoffed at the idea, but had done as they were told.

As far as Jaina could see, Raynar was adjusting rather well to operating without the influence of the Hive mind. He was able to eat like a normal, civilized Human again rather than with his fingers as he had been accostomed to with the Unu. Still, there was a kind of jerk to his movements, as though he were waiting for something to come up behind him and treat him as a Killik instead of a man, as though he weren't sure if he didn't want that or if he was anticipating it.

"Didn't Cighal say this was kind of like treating someone with an addiction?" Jaina finally asked, "Why not add in some medicine to counteract the influence of the Killik pheromones, like they do with real addicts?"

"Maybe because she doesn't know what kind of medicine to use." Zekk replied with a shrug, "I mean, we don't even know what happened to our own brains during the Joining process, how can you expect someone who hasn't experienced it to take a guess? None of us even know what the pheromones were, which specific protein it was that changed our brains."

"So just pump him full of normal human hormones. He'd need hormone replacement therapy anyway, since the crash damaged so many of his systems." Jaina argued. Even as she talked with Zekk, she had the feeling that both of them understood it was just to keep the awkward silence at bay.

"Y'know, I think he can hear us." Zekk pointed out. Jaina glanced through the glass again. Sure enough, Raynar was looking over his shoulder as though he could hear their voices and expected to see them. Jaina shook it off.

"It's just the Joiner's bond." She dismissed, "Or his Force sense is coming back." That had been another thing that Cighal had said needed recovery, since Raynar had depended on the Unu's Force presence instead of his own.

"Just saying... we should probably keep our voices down." Zekk pointed out. Jaina ignored him.

What was she missing?

"Maybe General Antilles could help." Zekk suddenly put in. Jaina turned and frowned over her shoulder, wondering what Zekk was talking about, "Since he was Commander of the Rogue Squadron around that..." Zekk caught her gaze, then shut his mouth, "Sorry."

Jaina looked away.

"Don't be."

* * *

Lower level clinics were very, very unpleasant. Mara knew this both from personal experience and from the fact that, while sitting in the waiting room, she saw four patients come in with missing limbs, eight vomiting blood, and sixteen fall through the doors and immediately start spasming, go unconscious, or have symptoms similar to strokes or heart attacks.

The fact that no one reacted with alarm just meant that everyone in this clinic was used to it. That disturbed Mara. Greatly.

"Miss Esmeraud?" Mara looked up to see a very, very tall man standing over her, dressed completely in gray except for the white doctors coat which didn't even reach down to his knees or elbows, "Exam room three is open, if you would care to follow me."

Mara rose from her chair, slowly and stiffly and pretended to hobble as she followed the doctor. She could see something like a funny lump on the back of his head, hidden under his long, gravity-defying white hair. He had to be over seventy.

The exam rooms were clean and well-kept, Mara was pleased to see. She sat down on the examining table, pretending to wince as she sat down. The doctor sat down on the windowsill- more like just leaned against it- and watched the door.

"Medic Orewahime will arrive in a few seconds- the Director here always has trouble getting her to do her clinic hours." He said. Mara blinked at him.

"You aren't... Medic Orewahime is a woman?" She asked, taken aback. Deacon had failed to mention that. The strange man in the white coat looked away rather guiltily.

"I am not even medically certified- the director just brought me here because it is the only way Medic Orewahime will actually come down to the clinic."

Oh, THIS couldn't be good.

The door opened. Pushing it open with her back was the shortest woman Mara had ever seen. Her hair was cropped so short, Mara would have thought it was a man if it weren't for the busom blatantly displayed by the tight sleeveless tank. The woman wasn't wearing a doctor's coat, or, for that matter, any shoes. In her single arm, she carried a datapad, a waterbottle filled with gin, and a portable holoprojector. Her other arm was barely a stub off her shoulder, and there was a large eyepatch covering the entire right side of her face.

The woman took one look at Mara, then to the man leaning against the windowsill.

"She has a case for you, Kenda." The man finally said. The woman looked back at Mara, then rolled her eyes.

"I'll say." The woman, who couldn't have been anyone but Medic Orewahime, set down her supplies, then strode over to Mara and took a good, long look at her, "This your first?"

Mara blinked.

"Know if it's a boy, girl? Got a name picked out yet?" Orewahime continued, each question making it much more prevalent what she was getting at.

"I'm not pregnant." She said, flatly. Orewahime turned her back and fished out a bottle of ultrasound gel and the machine.

"Sure ya are. Either that or you're malnourished- causes red hair and bloating- AND you have breast cancer, which would make your boobs puff up. Not likely, since you've also been tired and irritable lately, now lay down and roll up your shirt." Orewahime said, opening the bottle and shaking it a little. Mara did neither of the instructions.

"I'm not your patient- I want you to examine my husband..." Mara was cut off as she felt an unmistakable Force push that put her flat on her back on the examining table.

"Kenda, the director told you not to..." Protested the man, but Orewahime talked over him.

"The director isn't dealing with an irate Jedi bitch with a little person inside of her." She turned to Mara, "Now, Mrs. Skywalker, yer the one on the examining table- if you want me to examine your husband, bring him in, or submit a house call request. Don't try to go undercover- it's stupid. Either lift up your shirt, or I'll do it for you."

So this woman knew who Mara was, and was more than just a little Force-sensitive. Mara stared for a moment, but finally did as she was told and patiently waited for the ultrasound, even listened to it as Orewahime showed her the screen and announced that the fetus had Mara's eyes.

"I'll write up a prescription for Folic Acid dietary supplements... and you, leave the number of your husband's hospital room with the receptionist. I'll be up this afternoon, as soon as I finish arguing with the dean." Orewahime wiped Mara's abdomen clean and put away the ultrasound machine, then exited to, presumably, fill Mara's prescription and argue with the dean.

Mara's gaze shifted over to the man in the doctor's coat, whom was looking steadfastly in the opposite direction and somehow managing to make himself look small and obscure.

"How did you know I had a case?" She finally asked. The man shifted, uncomfortably.

"You kept changing the area you had stiffness in. And when I mentioned that Kenda was a woman, you were surprised, so it obviously meant you wanted her, specifically." The man quickly glanced at Mara before looking away even more than before and going very pink, "That... and you are quite obviously pregnant to anyone who has been here long enough, but you just came to the clinic instead of making an appointment with an obstetrician... it meant you hadn't noticed, which could only mean you were more concerned about something else..."

There was a pause. Mara knew she should be getting back to the other medcenter, but she also knew that she had to wait for the Folic Acid, and there was this compulsive need to know more about these two.

"If you're not a real medic, what do you do here?" Mara asked. The man's face went from pink to red before the door opened. Orewahime entered again with a bottle of pills that could only have been Mara's Folic Acid.

"Trike, Nurse Sunshine-and-Smiley-Faces was bitching for you out in the hall- An intern overturned a cart outside the nursery and woke everyone up."

Mara's stare turned from Orewahime to the man who was obviously her partner in more ways than one. He had a small smile on his now very red face.

"I work in the maternity ward. It seems I am the only one the younglings like when it comes to rocking them to sleep."

Mara left the clinic feeling stupider than she could ever recall feeling in her life.

* * *

Life being blurry was not very conducive to seeing straight. Lucky for Luke that seeing straight was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Instead, he was content to keep blinking at the indistinct, fuzzy shapes that kept moving around in front of him. It was especially nice because he didn't have to really do anything, and he was just too tired to want to do anything. He didn't even have to do his breathing, but at the same time, oxygen filled his lungs and made his chest comfortable. About the only thing he had to do was blink and feel his heart beating. It was very, very pleasant.

That was why, as the shapes in the room got clearer and all sorts of aches and pains slowly came back, he was seriously annoyed.

"Hey, Skywalker brat, we need you to wake up." There was also an abrasive voice in his ear and a heavy hand smacking his leg, "I know you're faking it- I just took you off the morphine and I LIVE with a guy who fakes all the time, now wake up."

Luke opened his eyes. Everything was blobs of color and smears of light.

"Wuuuuu...." Was all he managed- his jaw didn't seem to want to work with him. Something red appeared in the sky over his face.

"Hey farmboy. Hope you're feeling ready to be cured." It was Mara. At least Luke still recognized her.

"Hmm." He finally agreed. He heard Mara laugh, making him glad that his ears still worked, too. His vision was also starting to clear up- he could make out the shape of Mara's head and the petite, brown haired figure in the background.

"Sweet dreams?" Asked that new, abrasive voice. Luke saw the shape of the face move. He frowned.

"...S-See..." He started, but the new shape moved in closer, becoming clear enough that Luke wondered if it was a man or woman standing at the foot of his bed. Then, there was a sharp pain in the heel of his foot, quickly followed by increasing pain, nausea, and dizziness. It also brought everything into crystal clear focus, enough for his mouth to start spitting out some words Aunt Beru NEVER would have let him get away with.

"What the hell?" Apparently, Mara concurred. Luke's eyes opened to glare at the figure standing over him with an empty syringe. For some reason- probably Mara's Force presence- the name 'Orewahime' came to his mind.

"We need him awake for the diagnosis. Unless you want me to just pin up symptoms on the wall and throw darts at them." So, the psycho with the needle was the medic. Luke took a deep breath and was alarmed how much it hurt to do so. He ended up coughing through most of it.

"And the needle was... what, precisely?" Mara demanded. Orewahime rolled her eyes.

"Just a little stimulant. Speed up his blood flow, speed up his metabolism, and his body will eat up the suppressant quicker, make him wake up." The way Orewahime said it was infuriating enough, like she thought Mara should have known that, already.

"Kenda, if the director hears about this, you can lose your license." Luke's head jerked enough for him to see a third person in the room- a very tall, thin man with shock white hair standing in the corner with his arms folded. Orewahime scoffed, loudly.

"I'm not gonna get fired- I've got tenure. Now, Skywalker brat..." Luke looked foreward, mostly out of surprise. Medic Orewahime was, indeed, speaking to him, "Gotta question for ya- was anything screwy with you BEFORE you fainted and went into a cardiac shock?"

Luke blinked for a moment, then managed to open his mouth.

"Lethargy... and stiffness." He finally said, "...But I figured it was from some... previous injuries."

"Okay, so you were in... a speeder crash? An engineering accident? Care to tell me WHAT that was?" Luke continued to blink, completely unsure of what to make of this woman and her attitude.

"...Jedi business." Luke finally managed. He could see the sneer that crept onto Orewahime's lips.

"Okay... so it's none of my damn business?" She asked. Luke met her gaze and defiantly nodded. The medic's sneer grew, before her single visible eye shifted to Mara, "Alrighty... Mrs. Jade Skywalker?" Mara looked up, "Your husband has cheated on you- the condition killing him is a sexually transmitted infection that weakens the immune system, sometimes causes the white blood cells to attack the healthy tissue in his body. If I were you, I'd get down to the surgery ward- you'd be amazed what a fetus can win you in divorce court."

"What?" Both Luke and Mara said the word, though for very different reasons. Luke heard the man in the corner groan. Orewahime's grin spread.

"OR... The Skywalker brat over here can cooperate and tell me what I need to know- or not, I could really care less."

Never before had Luke wanted to injure a woman when not in the heat of battle so badly.

"Kenda... could you... NOT make another patient want to shoot you?" The man in the corner said, slowly. Orewahime continued to grin, expectantly. Luke didn't say anything, instead turned his head to look at Mara, whose ears were about as red as her hair.

"Mara..." His throat felt as dry and cracked as the cliffs of Beggar's Canyon as the word left it. Mara looked down at him, her anger shifting to that unique softness combined with fierceness that only Mara Jade Skywalker could wear.

"I know you didn't cheat on me, Farmboy- don't give me that look." She said, a small twitch tugging at the corner of her lips. Luke shook his head a little, then grabbed her hand.

"...You're pregnant?" Mara's face became pained and she looked away. Luke's eyes widened in alarm, before he shot a glance at Medic Orewahime, who certainly seemed to be enjoying this.

"Technically, she's got a parasite feeding off of her, but in the next few weeks, her body will start attacking it until the tissues break down and get reabsorbed into her body, accompanied by a lot of cramping and some menstrual bleeding, and then it'll be business as usual- she is WAY too skinny to carry to term." She put in. Luke looked back at Mara, who was still not meeting his gaze.

"I'll be fine- she's just trying to goad you." Luke's hand tightened on Mara's.

"You don't eat properly when we go on missions." He croaked. Mara's nose wrinkled.

"You're exaggerating..."

"All you eat is ration bars unless I remind you to eat something else."

"I eat real food without you mothering me."

"Not enough to be considered a balanced diet."

"But enough that I'm not malnourished or anything."

This whole time, Luke could feel the other two in the room watching them go back and forth, but for the most part, he'd forgotten they were there before the man in the corner coughed and interrupted.

"Mrs. Skywalker, given that your husband is the one who almost went into a coma and whose cooperation we need to diagnose him, perhaps you could humor him until he can be guarantied to live long enough to see you through your pregnancy?" Mara glared over at him, but Luke could see her teeth grinding together in the manner that meant she was going to relent, but didn't want to admit it.

Luke's grip on her hand relaxed. He could feel the medic's gaze on his hand,

"You..." Luke blinked at her. She was frowning, "Your right hand is a different skin tone than your arm." Luke stared for a moment before he looked down at the hand she was referring to. Indeed, the skin on his fake right hand was pale compared to his arm and left hand.

"I wear gloves a lot." He said, slowly. It was true enough- ever since he'd lost his right hand, it had been mostly a habit to cover his false one with a glove, almost as though the extra layer would protect it. Orewahime continued to frown.

"If you wear a glove on one hand but not the other, it either means you just lose things very easily- I kinda doubt that, because if a Jedi loses things easily, he doesn't live long enough to become very well known, or at least the Masters aren't gonna promote him to a Knight so easily- or it means you've got something to hide..." She paused, then leaned over and peered at Luke's wrist, or, more precisely, at the faint line where the artificial skin had been attached to his real skin, "You've got a fake hand."

Apparently, his status as a celebrity left that detail out of all the publicity columns, Luke concluded. Orewahime turned away and picked up her datapad, scrawling something on it. Luke didn't need to see the look on Mara's face to know she was concerned.

"Is that going to affect treatment or how you can do testing?" She asked. Orewahime's pen stilled as she looked up, confused.

"...No... It's just that 'droid' is the perfect word to complete today's crossword puzzle." She said. If Luke's jaw wasn't hanging open, he knew Mara's was, and in any case, the man in the corner was staring at the floor in shame. Orewahime continued writing as though there had been no interruption, "By the way, did you lose that hand in a lightsaber fight with someone, and for that matter, did your latest 'Jedi business' injuries happen to come from lightsaber and slash or blaster wounds?"

Luke blinked, but she kept going as though he'd answered, "The plasma that constitutes blaster bolts and lightsaber blades acts a lot like the heavy metal mercury- if you absorb a lot of it, it builds up in your body over time, and when you've got a whole limb replaced with droid circuits, the plasma gathers there, causes the circuits and synthetic flesh to corrode, ending in some very nasty by-products and all that crap gets washed into your system. Causes muscle cramping and spasms that lead to stiffness, lethargy, and minor strokes that can cause fainting spells and potential comas, among other things. You just need to get a dialysis done, replace the hand, and you'll be fine."

Luke felt his eyes go round and start to bug out in shock. Medic Orewahime picked up her datapad and started out of the room.

"As for the Missus, yer coming with me so we can get you down to the lab, be sure you won't miscarry, and give the medics who actually have real power here a chance to work their magic." Mara started forward as Orewahime beckoned her, taking the tall man in the corner with them and calling around the door, "Call us when you're sober."

* * *

"I thought you were taking me down to the lab." Mara noted as Orewahime opened the door to a room that was quite obviously a recreational lounge- the large holoscreen on the wall surrounded by a wrap around couch gave that much away. Orewahime ignored her and plugged in a box to the screen. The man called 'Trike' followed up and closed the door, once again situating himself in a corner.

Orewahime gestured Mara over, patting on a seat next to her.

"Here- si'down. This is a two-player but Trike hates these games, so I can never get him to team up with me." Mara almost didn't catch the controller Orewahime tossed to her as she made her way to the seat.

Halfway through the game, Mara tried again.

"So... why exactly am I not down in the lab being tested for miscarraige risk factors? Or is that a question I'm supposed to already know the answer to?" She asked. Orewahime tilted her controller a little. The red character on the screen blasted apart a wooden crate, the number five-hundred blinking as she did so.

"You're over forty-five, at the very least, right?" Mara nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly old that she was actually in her fifties, "Combined with the fact that you've probably had your fair share of plasma poisoning- dealt with better because women's immune systems are more used to flushing out toxins than men's- and what the Skywalker brat said about your diet, even if this wasn't your first child, you don't have any more healthy eggs left. You're gonna miscarry no matter what you do."

Mara shrugged- she'd heard worse news about her health, and at least she and Luke still had Ben already. Of course, this just reminded her of how tenuous Ben's existence was, as had been proven to her just a week ago, but she never would have admitted to it.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm almost seventy, myself- I had twins around forty years ago, haven't seen either of them in thirty. Youth today, huh?" Orewahime's voice was light, but Mara didn't laugh- she didn't see the humor, "Watch out for the troll- he's gonna eat ya, dude."

Mara's blue player dodged the troll and aimed the blast just in time. The number fifteen-hundred flashed on the screen and her player's attack level raised.

"That still doesn't explain why we're HERE, of all places." Mara pointed out as she blasted away at the wall that had been blocking her way out of the tunnel. Orewahime's thumb moved just as quickly on her controller- Mara could see the red player in a knife fight with a brown and gray NPC opponent.

"We've gotta be nearby- the tests should be finishing up right now, and I told the nurses to give him some blood thinners so he doesn't clot and have another stroke or cardiac arrest. Still, it's going to make him faint again, and that'll kick start his system and whatever sent him into respiratory distress will start up again, and then we'll be able to diagnose what did that in the first place." Mara looked away from the screen to gape at Orewahime, who shot her a look, then a frown, "Don't look away, man- terrorists are gonna get you."

Not a second later, Orewahime's pager buzzed. Mara could feel a twinge in her chest that told her already that all was not well with Luke.

* * *

"I don't think THAT could have gone any worse."

"Sure it could've- she could've gone into labor five minutes into the day."

Ben kicked at a stone on the walkway and didn't look at Ouduar- he was still cranky from the heat and being cramped up in the Dante's apartment all day. By the time Dantes himself came back from work, the sky was already dark, and Mercedes' inablity to explain away Ouduar's presence had not made getting out of there any easier.

But, at long last, they were out and on their way back to the CMC's house in the Works. Ben was not looking forward to tomorrow.

"But if that'd happened, we could've called the Countess, she would've come out, and then we wouldn't have to go back tomorrow." Not to mention that it would be one less thing on Dantes' mind, having to worry if his sister was going to split a seam or something- that had been the main theme of his demands of Ben and Ouduar regarding his sister's health.

"Women don't HAVE seams, Ben. If living creatures had stitches to split, Hutts would explode all the time." While the idea of a Hutt exploding was funny, Ben had no desire to keep walking with Ouduar on his heels.

"I didn't say anything about seams- what're YOU talking about?" Ben demanded. Ouduar chuckled.

"I was just thinking that it's nice that you're concerned about two complete strangers like this." He noted, even as Ben went red and stammered a denial.

"H-H-how is this me 'caring' about strangers? It's my own hide I'm worried about." Ben snapped. Ouduar put his hands over his ears and leaned away, ignoring Ben.

"It got cold while we were there- kind of wish we could have left earlier..." He noted, tugging on his coat. Ben's face wrinkled- he was perfectly comfortable at the cooling seventy plus degrees that Coruscanti summer nights were- before he found himself wrapped up inside Ouduar's coat, as well, "You look chilly- I'll keep you warm."

Ben tried to shove him away.

"NO NEED FOR THAT, THANKS!"

Ben could feel a surge of something that almost felt like pained sadness, except it was tinged with amusement. Even worse, Ben didn't know who it was from- it sure as hell wasn't him.

"Aw, why not?" Ouduar sounded hurt, but at the same time, not really. Ben shoved even harder and this time separated.

"Because it's already hot enough without your heavy coat making me sweat even more." Was Ben's answer. Ouduar didn't say anything for a moment, but Ben could just hear what he was planning to say, next.

"Ben, I love you." Yep, Ben had guessed it right.

"WOULD YOU STOP THAT!?" Ben exploded, "THAT'S THE FIFTH TIME TODAY- YOU'RE LUCKY MERCEDES CAN'T SPEAK BASIC THAT WELL, OR SHE WOULD HAVE, I DUNNO, THROWN US OUT FOR BEING FREAKS OR SOMETHING!"

Ouduar kept blinking, before Ben saw him reach into his pockets for one of those smoking sticks.

"Your parents say they love you- I'll bet you don't make such a big deal about this with THEM." He said, mildly. Ben's nose wrinkled as he snorted.

"No, they don't. Now, give it a rest, already." Ben started to stomp away, resolved not to look back, no matter what Ouduar said. Which was why Ben was very surprised when Ouduar remained perfectly silent. After a few minutes, Ben looked back to see Ouduar just standing there, smoking his stick and saying absolutely nothing, "Um... Ouduar...?"

"...I was just thinking that person's words made a lot more sense, now." Ouduar said, taking a leisurely stroll to catch up to Ben. Ben remained rooted to the spot as he stared at Ouduar.

"...The Countess said something to you?" He asked. Ouduar shrugged, but then his smirk from a few minutes ago was back as he scooped Ben up and hoisted the younger boy onto his shoulders.

"You were eager to get back to that House, right? Enjoy the ride." Before Ben could do more than grab onto Ouduar's hair like it was reins- didn't that bother Ouduar, having Ben pull on it?- Ouduar was off, running fast enough that Ben could visibly see their progress towards the Works.

"...You might be kind of a creep, but this is pretty astral." Ben had to admit, a smile creeping onto his face, "You sure you're just Human?" Ben heard Ouduar laugh.

"Nothing special about me- if it's for you, Ben, I can do anything. That's all." Ouduar said, speeding up. Ben had to laugh, himself.

"Think you could sneak up on the house? That'd be kind of funny."

Ben never got his answer- just outside the doors, Ouduar's legs buckled. Ben went flying, but landed on all fours without injury. Ouduar remained crumpled outside the doors, heaving for breath and clutching at his chest. And, from the faint, echoing pain inside Ben's chest, like his cardiac muscles were spasming, Ben realized two things- one was that his empathy worked with Ouduar, and the other was that something was very, very wrong.

A/N: HI! I'm back, from a... eight month hiatus. Hopefully, I will not have another one. Also, hopefully, I will get my internet back- right now, I'm sitting in Panera's in order to upload this chapter (Appreciate the effort I put into this for you, bitches!) Also, in the meantime, I put up another story about Ben, called 'Prejudice'- go check it out, and it might help you figure out a few things in THIS story (It's not related to this fic, but it's kind of like one of those Star Wars Tales story shorts... oh, just go read it)


	24. Part II: Chapter 11

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By Sapadu

Chapter 11:

"This is what you get for being a smoker." Lectured the CMC as she pulled her gloves off and left Ouduar with his arms folded over his stomach. Ben swiveled on the chair he was in to tug at the Countess' sleeve.

"What happened, exactly?" He asked, quietly. The Countess made no effort to keep her voice quiet.

"Just a heart attack, but he'll be fine. As long as he stops chewing those cancer sticks..." Her voice raised as she saw Ouduar eying his coat, "I wouldn't expect any more until he hits twenty- after that, he's bound to have trouble, since he started that habit rather early in life."

"JUST a heart attack?" Ben repeated, looking fairly upset at the news.

"Because he's a smoker." Repeated the Countess, severely, "There are several different types of heart attacks you can have- most are caused by the main aorta being blocked by plaque buildup or a clot, but a few are caused by the vessels surrounding the heart spasming because of chemicals entering the body that shouldn't be there- poisons, caffeine, tobacco and so forth." Ben was still frowning in a manner that obviously meant he didn't believe her. The Countess pursed her lips before she looked over to Ouduar, "Sit up."

Ouduar did as he was told.

"Now stand up."

Ouduar stood. The Countess raised her eyebrows at Ben.

"Um... we've got a visitor." Ouduar finally put in, breaking the staring contest. Ben looked towards the door to see a little corner of white hair quickly duck back out of sight.

"Jacci, come in here." The Countess' voice was sharp this time. The door creaked open and Jacci poked her head and shoulders through. Ben had to blink once or twice to recognize her- her hair was cut in layers that made it almost look like it stuck up in all directions, except for her bangs and two sideburns, which were separated from the main mass by a coral ribbon that tied behind her ears.

Ben couldn't help but grin when he saw that Jacci had also made good on her word to cut up her dresses- she'd gotten rid of the sleeves and sliced off all the ruffles and bows and lace. Ben could see all the bruises and dots on her arms from being stuck so many times.

"Stay in here with Ouduar while I have a word with Ben in the hall." The Countess grabbed Ben by the ear and dragged him out, essentially shoving Jacci into the room with Ouduar. Ben shouted and squirmed, but followed her in the end.

Outside, the Countess let go of Ben's ear and folded her arms, looking at him very severely.

"Sieur Ben, did you notice exactly how much Ouduar smoked today?" She started. Ben blinked at her for a moment before he considered his answer, trying to remember.

"...I think it was only once... on our way to the Dantes... and even then, he didn't really finish it..." Thinking about it, Ouduar hadn't really done much that day- just followed Ben around, occasionally spurting The-Phrase-That-Must-Not-Be-Uttered, and not even doing that terribly much.

"...Really?" The Countess' nose wrinkled with distaste before Ben finally asked what was wrong with it, "If it were just a heart attack from smoking, he would have had to be chain smoking all day, or with a stick in his mouth just as it hit- it's not one of those delayed-time bomb illnesses, nor something that comes from just a little bit." She mused, then glanced at Ben, "Which means there's something else going wrong here."

Ben gulped a little. Partly out of nerves and partly because of the look the Countess was giving him.

"And, given the causes for heart attacks, there are reasons behind those causes which could be very bad for you to be around him..." The Countess surmised, before striding down the hall, beckoning Ben to follow her, "If you're going to donate a kidney, your body has to be virtually scrubbed clean of any disease or disorder. No infection, no autoimmune problems, not even any hay fever."

Instead of a long trek like Ben had expected, she simply led him to the next door down the hall and flung it open. From what Ben could see, it was a library.

"Since this concerns you as much as anyone else, you shall be helping me diagnose the problem." The Countess said, pulling down a massive book that, from what Ben could tell, was essentially a list of symptoms and their diagnoses, "Start with the letter 'Aurek'. I'll send Jacci in to help you."

Ben stared down at the giant book, wondering if this was really worth it. And, for that matter, why he had to do the research when Ouduar was the one sick.

* * *

"Look on the bright side- vomiting is a lot worse when you have actual food in your stomach to throw up." Orewahime put in as Luke braced himself against the waste bowl, shaking. It was true that he hadn't actually vomited yet, but that didn't make the dry heaves any more pleasant than before.

"I thought you said that we'd find out what caused respiratory distress- you never told me that he'd get sick." Mara hissed, but Luke heard her anyway. Another shudder ran through his stomach up to his mouth and he bent double over the waste bowl again.

"In case you haven't noticed, respiratory distress counts as 'sick' without any other troubles. You're a little late for that." Orewahime shot back. Luke tried to think of a way to cover his ears without letting go of the bowl. Then again, he didn't really seem to have anything in his stomach to vomit up, so...

"This could be something he ate." Luke panted heavily from his mouth as Mara and the medic stopped bickering long enough to stare at Trike, whom had been keeping out of the way as usual, "Not recently, but a while ago- a kind of fungus, infected meat, something with eggs or larvae in them..."

Luke felt three pairs of eyes turn to him before Orewahime yanked the bowl away.

"You ever eat anything fishy or bizarre on some strange planet?" She asked. Luke folded his arms over his stomach and pressed, hoping it would aleive some of the pain enough that he could talk.

"Thirty-some years ago... a parasite called... Trichoid larvae... on Bakura." He gasped out, the pain from his stomach starting to spread up to his ribcage. Orewahime gave him the bowl back.

"What kind? Did you ever see what it looked like?" She asked. Luke tried to swallow to at least wet his throat and failed terribly.

"Does it matter?" He returned, hoarsely. Orewahime rolled her eyes then looked back at her partner.

"Trike, isn't he just the most precious thing?"

"Kenda..."

Luke didn't need any sort of translating to tell that had been a 'Get to the point' sort of message.

"The Tropical Subterranean Trichoids reach maturity to lay eggs as soon as they hatch, themselves, and cocoon those eggs in little pouches of mucus that can withstand the gastric acids of our stomach so they can hibernate in your intestines or even your colon for years until they hatch, pupate, and set about worming their way through your skeletal muscles and internal organs. Desert Fungi Trichoids, on the other hand- nasty little bastards, but if you get them out before they eat through your bronchial tubes and into your aorta, really more of a nuisance than a threat." Orewahime explained. Luke took a deep breath.

"Green and black striped." He let it out a little too quickly. It hurt just to hold his breath. Orewahime wrinkled her nose.

"Okay, not it, then."

"Since when is a creature that eats through your bronchial tubes towards major arteries more of a nuisance than a threat?" Luke spat out, closing his eyes and trying to will the pain away. Orewahime stuck her tongue out at him.

"Since you stopped breathing. Any other ideas?" Mara remained silent, as did Trike. Orewahime finally made a sweeping motion before dropping her hand, "Alright then... guess this means I'll need to get real medics to help me on this one."

Luke looked up long enough to glare at Orewahime, before she opened the door and reached out with her single good arm.

"You, you, and you- get in here." She pulled back in and shut the door behind her. Three other persons in lab coats fell in line as she did so and proceeded to take out a marker and write on the wall in bright orange ink.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" Mara asked, eying the wall that had been spotlessly white a moment before. Orewahime only paused to squint at Mara.

"I didn't spend two-hundred credits on these markers just to keep the lids on 'em." She answered, before pulling out a red one and tossing it to Mara, "Here- give that to the Skywalker brat, it'll cheer him up. Last time I checked, it was cherry."

Luke had had a feeling that would be her next move- he could smell the orange scent from the marker on the wall.

"Okay- respiratory distress, lethargy, change in blood pressure, heart attack, and now, would-be vomiting. One, two, three, go!"

The three random medics were silent.

"Medic Orewahime, who exactly are we treating?"

"I'm just here for an interview."

"You're writing on the wall!"

"Focus, people- focus!" Orewahime shouted. Luke sat up enough to meet Mara's eyes. He could tell that she was thinking exactly the same thing as he was.

"Is she REALLY as good as the Commissioner said?" Luke asked before he started to cough, this time, a pain going through his lungs and throat like molten lead being poured into them.

* * *

"Eighty-thousand credits is indeed a great amount of money..." Gastess agreed as Caarousse showed him the little treasures he'd earned. He'd never before seen pearls this size, of any color, and he'd been to quite a few planets that would show such delights, "And you say you got them from a crazy lady who wanted to rent that abandoned place in the Coruscanti Envoys District?"

Caarousse nervously twisted together the hairs on the backs of his knuckles and bit his lips as he avoided eye contact with his lender.

"Y-you should recognize the name... Her Excellency called herself the CMC... and..." But Gastess almost sprang from his chair.

"The CMC? Her Excellency has rented that piece of property with YOU?" He demanded, voice hoarse with a kind of fury special to bankers, "That woman opened an account with me just a week after this lease was signed- why was I not notified?"

"W-well... sir, I had no way of knowing. Besides, it's just a lease..." Caarousse timidly suggested, but this only infuriated the banker, who threw the file of papers across the room.

"A lease that might have become a mortgage if I'd known about it." Gastess interrupted, "If you had told me about her, I would have arranged business the day she opened that blasted account. It would have at least made up for all the trouble she put me through with those damnable unlimited lines of credit, not to mention the enormous sums she keeps depositing into her account. Everything is perfectly horrifying- from start to finish, that woman has had suspicion written all over her, top to bottom. And the least you could have done is referred her to me so there could be some real profit off of her."

Gastess sank back into his chair as though the outburst had cost him all his energy, which, for a man of his girth, it could very easily have done. His belly trembled as he heaved for breath and his gaunt, pale green face turned dark and almost gray with his fury, and all the while, Caarousse sat back in his chair, saying nothing except the occasional, "Quite right, quite right."

"If... if I may say so, though... sir?" Caarousse spoke up again, still gesturing to the magnificence he'd brought to Gastess for inspection, "I only told you what diagnosis a jeweler gave me on their price. If you so wanted, you could find another jeweler and bid up a few thousand credits, or maybe even cut out the trouble and sell them yourself at your own price, and right there, that's an extra million or so credits. Why, find something to set them in as rings or on a necklace, you could easily have a three million credit set of pearls there."

Gastess moodily picked at the hairs on his chin, before he brushed off this knowledge with an impatient hand.

"Yes, yes- the thought occurred to me, but do get on with the point." He snapped, turning in his chair so he faced the window instead of his precious desk and the sweating Caarousse, who paused to wring out his handkerchief before going back to patting down his brow.

"W-well, with such incredible fortunes to be gained from these, if I were to give them to you as they are..." Caarousse finally managed, eased somewhat from not being under Gastess' direct glare, "I was thinking this would settle the mortgage..."

Papers rustled on the desk as Gastess spun in his chair and whipped himself forward onto the desk.

"The mortgage? The MORTGAGE? Sir Gespa Caarousse, you forget the terms of that document if you think a paltry eighty-thousand could even come close to dealing it out. That's not even a joke- I should send for your arrest for even thinking that." He snarled, with as much viciousness as could be expected from a man under the stress of losing an investment.

"But that's the very amount you told me the whole property was worth when I took ownership of it- these would pay it off and give you some profit on the side. I've never missed a payment in the seven years I've been working and renting those apartments, always kept the tenants happy, you've never heard a complaint about anything. Don't speak to me of jokes- this is said in all seriousness." Caarousse retorted, standing and clenching his fist around his handkerchief as though he were contemplating twisting it into a whip and lashing the banker across the face with it. Gastess gave a mighty guffaw.

"A seriousness that you are a fool to suggest. Every single one of your payments, you weren't even making the monthly interest accrued on your account." Caarousse continued to gape, but his words now began to fail him as Gastess swiftly pulled up the account on the computer screen, "The first month, the outstanding payment was thirty-five credits, but on that same day, the interest accrued had amounted to ninety-nine and a half, so you fell sixty-four and a half short, and for the next month, your balance on the entire property was eight-thousand sixty-four and a half credits, and the next month, your interest had accrued to one-hundred and one twentieth, so you fell short by sixty-five and one twentieth and... well, it does get a little lengthy, but you can see the numbers for yourself."

Gastess turned the screen around so Caarousse had no choice but to stare, blinking and unbelieving like a rat that has been pounced on after living in the same hole for years, at the ever growing numbers on the charts, going down to see that, as of today, he hadn't paid a cent towards the eighty thousand his own home and the rented apartments he had purchased cost- for that matter, there was now an extra five-thousand credits lumped onto it. Compulsively, his fingers rose to his mouth and he began to chew on the skin of his knuckles as every extra integer made his eyes grow wider.

"B-but... but... you said this was a mortgage we could afford... when this all began..." Caarousse protested. Gastess' flat nostrils flared.

"It is. You said it yourself- you've never missed a payment or scraped to make ends meet with it."

"But when the last payment comes, we'll be evicted for a failure to pay!"

"Probably."

"How do you call that 'affordable'?"

"That's besides the point, and even if it weren't, it's none of my business." Gastess reclined, somewhat lazily, finally pointing to the pearls and shoving them back across the table, "Keep those and consider refinancing or other such options- that's what we have them for. I have nothing more to say to you, Sir Caarousse- good day."

Caarousse could not move for a few moments until some kind of spirit possessed him to rise and leave with his now worthless treasures. His figure was silent and numb as he left the building, all the while, vicious thoughts and preoccupations running through his mind until, as he set foot outside the doors, he could not contain himself anymore and flung himself down the steps in a kind of helpless temper that ruined men possess, to the point that they no longer care what other fellow being might witness them.

"Oh, cursed, cursed day! Why didn't I see this from the moment these ominous things made their way to my hands? Why this, of all misfortunes, and why me, of all devout beings? I have poured my very blood into that wretched building I lord over, just to have it pulled from me like a king loses his castle to an usurper- no, not even, for a king might win that back, and I've no chance. And I thought I felt a chill this morning, too- yes, definitely a chill, undoubtedly a fever or other great illness come upon me. Come to think of it, I haven't been feeling well at all these last few weeks- what will I do on the streets for shelter and warmth for a battered body like this? At least now, I have a roof to go to, but it will be gone. Maybe my wife- oh, but when she hears this, that will be the end of her. Undoubtedly, she'll have some sort of heart attack or be struck down with a fever like my own and there'll be a hospital fee which we won't be able to afford... oh, what if she just becomes fed up and decides there are better men for her in the galaxy... Cursed, cursed, cursed day!" Caarousse worked himself into a fit that almost put him in a state to throw himself from the walk into the unending sea of ships and hovercars, but a voice stopped him.

"You love her THAT much?" Caarousse spun, more vicious to the person who had interrupted his lament than to the insult to his wife, only to see a very fine young man standing with his back to one of the stone posts that braced the financial firm of Raimundur Gastess and Associates. He was tall and broad shouldered with toned arms and good, sturdy legs, both of which were draped in bright red finery, and his handsome, strong face was bordered with golden hair that gleamed with streaks of tan and bright yellow in the sun, and his honest-looking, honey-colored eyes were warm with a smile. Caarousse might not have been religious, but he was certainly willing to accept the existence of some greater creatures in the universe, and from the young man's timely interruption and beautiful kindness, Caarousse was willing to bet that this was one such angel.

"Who are you, young one, and what do you care for the troubles of an old, miserable wretch?" He asked, trying to seem as wise and kindly as elders were supposed to be towards younger ones. The young man waved the question off, smiling as cheerfully as ever.

"Just an experienced little fledgling, who understands that the world can sometimes be harsh to those who least deserve it. That much, I can gather about you from the way you were bemoaning your fate so piteously- tell me, what can I do to ease those moans?" He replied. The words appealed to Caarousse's desire for sympathy, just as much as to his desire for some kind of fortune.

'And, at the very least...' He told himself, 'If this little one turns out to be a well-traveled bandit or something of the sort in disguise, then at least I'll have something to report to the police- I know that a criminal's head is worth more than the platter it's served on.'

"You do look like a good boy- please, don't trouble yourself with the likes of me. Undoubtably, you'll just cause yourself some great disgrace, or I'll bring it upon you. No, I couldn't sleep at night, not when I knew I had made life hard for one as young and ready for life as you." Caarousse feebly protested, all the more delighted when the younger man graciously swept his arm up and started to walk with him, side-by-side.

"Try to speak more casually- people notice formal language in an informal setting." The young man whispered as his face necessarily brushed close to Caarousse's ear. Caarousse stood up straighter as the young man steered him out into the busier walkways over Coruscant's financial district.

"With that out of the way, who are you, you little rascal, and what're you doing here, with me of all people?" Caarousse asked, as normally as he could but trying not to raise over the hum of voices that served as their cover. The young scoundrel smiled, rather eerily for such a young face.

"Do you want my current name or the name I'll have in a week's time, when I'm formally introduced in Coruscanti aristocratic circles?" He replied, looking for all the world like a fox crafting it's next move on a hapless mouse. Caarousse ignored it in favor of an answer.

"Well, if you tell me your name-to-be, I still won't know what to call you NOW." He pointed out. The younger man sneered, ever so slightly, before he answered.

"Most call me Dreja. It's been my alias most everywhere that I go when I'm not my current identity." The younger man started to pick up his pace, almost forcibly dragging Caarousse with him. Caarousse raised an eyebrow, but wasn't about to complain at the uncertainty.

'Besides...' He said to himself, 'At least you'll know upfront the little rascal's dishonest. No honorable person ever really keeps their word, anyway, but you always think they will. You know what to expect with good, honest thieves.'

"Now, you, old man- I heard you muttering something about being ill and misfortunate or some other rot. What say you give me a word or two what that's about?" Dreja asked, his voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone.

Caarousse smiled back- he was starting to like this boy more and more with each passing second.

"The main source of my misfortune comes from a mortgage that I have no possible hopes of paying- I own a series of apartments in the Envoy's district, so if I lose my mortgage rights, I not only lose a home, but I lose my only means of living. I used to be a guard in a prison before this, but when my superior caught me with a bottle on my watch... well, all they could do was discharge me. With that, I couldn't find honest work anywhere, even scrubbing pots in some underbelly diner. This is all I can do, anymore." Caarousse explained, but his words were brushed off by Dreja.

"I know all that, but the question is how much- I've been trapped in impossible situations before, and got out of them just as easily as possible situations. It all depends on how impossible it is." Dreja murmured, pulling Caarousse down into a side street. Caarousse wiggled his arm a little, trying to loosen it from the younger man's impossible grip.

"Eighty-thousand credits, not including an extra five-thousand or so in interest." He answered. Dreja smirked, continuing to walk.

"Then I know just how to solve your problem. We simply have to acquire the funds." From the way Dreja said it, Caarousse could have sworn he meant 'steal', "Have you ever heard of a woman called the CMC?"

Caarousse's eyes lit up, but more with a gleeful anger than any real joy.

"Why, she's the crazy lady who rented one of the apartments I lease. She gave me these... no, before that, she set up an account with my mortgage broker, and that's why he's now threatening to throw me out! It's her fault- all her fault that I'm in this mess! Don't mention the name. Just hearing it in my own head makes me sick." Caarousse's recognition turned to disgust so swiftly that anyone would have laughed to hear it, since that is exactly what Dreja did.

"If she is the one at fault, she should take some responsibility for this, right?" He asked, voice dropping to a tantalizing tone, "What's a few hundred thousand to a man who she's caused so much trouble and grief? He has bills to pay and mouths to feed, and here, this worthy gentleman suffers because she stuck her nose where it didn't belong. It only seems fair that she get him out of that trouble, and then a little extra, since we never know what the future might hold." Caarousse started to lean in as Dreja's voice kept dropping, nodding along, before he realized the exact amount the little devil had suggested.

"A hundred-thousand... S-surely that's not necessary... I whole-heartedly agree that it's only right, but it's not worth it if we get caught... and a sum like that, eventually she'll have to notice and then..." Dreja stopped Caarousse as he spoke.

"Hardly- I heard she was the sole creditor who gave the working Senate funding needed to repair damage, the galaxy over, from the war with the Yuzuhan Vong, supposedly by purchasing the Millennium Falcon from an ex-Senator, and then returning it without even asking for a portion of a refund. We're talking trillions and trillions of credits, and she just handed them over like it was nothing." Caarousse froze in his steps, braced only by Dreja's arm as he almost lost his footing.

"She has wealth of multiple trillions?" He asked, completely taken in awe of the idea. Dreja smirked, eyes gleaming with delight.

"More! Infinitely more!" He whispered, "She could buy the whole galaxy if she so desired, and then a case to put it into." Caarousse's jaw dropped, but then shut as he attempted to sober himself and seem more morally upright.

"Oh, but that would mean a break-in. Someone with that much power and wealth, I doubt they just leave their doors open and unlocked at night." He protested, even more faintly than his last, and waved away just the more easily by Dreja.

"Leave that matter to me- I've lived in that house for many years now. The CMC found me on the streets, took pity on the boy who stole just so he could eat, and brought me into her house. At the time, I thought it was my salvation, but when I later learned that it was little more than slavery under her roof, I decided that the gratitude I owed her was nothing compared to the humiliation and bondage she had forced on me- if anyone owes anyone, she is the one in debt to me for the freedom she took away. Let's see who laughs last when I break in and out of that wretched place, unscathed and all the richer for it." Dreja continued to pull Caarousse down the street, this time downwards, towards the lower levels of the city. Caarousse blinked at him, astounded by the utter generosity of the young fellow, so much that he didn't even notice the change in the scenery until he almost stepped on an adder that had been sunning itself on the steps.

"But then what would you need me for- or even offer the opportunity? You're young, you're healthy, and you've certainly got a wise enough head on your shoulders if you could escape that kind of mean life. What purpose do you have in sharing this kind of secret with an old wretch who isn't even worth the scapegoat?" He wondered out loud. Dreja's smile became a little more natural, almost sincere.

"You think I would forget a merciful soldier who saved me from the jailer's persecution, once? I'm not one to forget a good turn done to me when I know it for what it is- come, don't tell me YOU'VE forgotten?" Dreja asked, and when Caarousse's eyes grew round, this time, it was with a real delight at seeing an old friend.

"Oh, but of course- you were the boy who..." Dreja held a finger up to his lips.

"Hush, not out here." He hissed, before resuming his old, friendly tone and pulling out a small silk purse that bulged with the unmistakable shapes of money, "What say we go to a pub and commemorate this new alliance?"

Caarousse smiled, showing all his teeth and securing his elbow about Dreja's in an attempt to stand taller than his measly one-hundred fifty-two centimeters allowed.

"Why, that sounds superb- lead the way, my fine comrade."

Neither of them noticed the adder on the steps watching them, it's slitted eyes unblinking as they turned the corner to the pub.

* * *

"Respiratory distress, lethargy, low blood pressure, then high blood pressure, heart attack, vomiting, coughing, and pain in the chest and abdominal areas." Orewahime stepped back from the board and straddled a chair as she glared at the other medics and Mara.

"Tuberculosis?" Trike guessed from position in the corner. Orewahime wrinkled her nose.

"No fever and it doesn't explain the vomiting or heart attack." She wrote the disease on a second board and crossed it out, all without leaving her chair. Mara glanced up, then went back to the medical dictionary she was browsing.

"Shouldn't someone be in there to check for changes or in case he has another heart attack?" She asked, keeping her tone just as cool as Orewahime's. It did the trick, as the medic made about the most disgusted noise Mara had ever heard.

"That's why God invented medical droids and nurses." She snapped back. Mara didn't look up- she didn't trust herself not to snap the woman's neck in two if she did.

"Funny, I thought humans took credit for those inventions. What about amyloidosis?" She paused over the description, but couldn't help but look up when Orewahime didn't shoot it down immediately. The medic woman was pulling off her jacket and shaking her arms. Mara could see perspiration clinging to the unshaved underarms.

"We'd have to check for heightened amyloid in his systems, but it would give us more results with stools than attempted vomiting." Put in one of the other medics. Orewahime put her arms down.

"So why AREN'T you guys checking?" She asked. The medic who had protested Orewahime's use of markers on a hospital room wall gave her the best dirty look she could.

"You haven't told us who we're diagnosing, yet." Orewahime rolled her eyes, then turned back to the board, scribbling a name at the top.

"There- you're diagnosing Darth Vader. Happy now?" Mara looked back down at her book and tried to ignore the loud cough from Trike that sounded suspiciously amused. All three medics rolled their eyes, but the one who had come in for an interview finally piped up.

"Could be scleroderma and we caught it before any renal failure." Orewahime wrote both that and amyloidosis on the board.

"We haven't seen any skin problems, though- and that's kind of where the -derma, comes from, so with out them, it's just sclero... Not really a disease." Orewahime put a big question mark next to the scleroderma, still seated astride her chair. After a moment, though, she got up and took her jacket with her, "Still, it's a good place to start. Get a needle biopsy and urine sample for the amyloidosis, and a skin biopsy and some blood tests for scleroderma. Frau Vader, joo are viz me." Orewahime opened the door, pulling Mara out of her seat. The other medics stood, but didn't move.

"Um, I've still got an interview..." One of them mentioned. Orewahime bent backwards into the room to peek at him.

"Yeah- imagine how good it'll look on your resume if you save a guy's life BEFORE the interview." And then, she closed the door.

* * *

:Finding anything yet?: Ben asked. Jacci turned another page in her book, eyes glazed over as she shook her head.

:Neh-Nii-Kah tested for all of these already and none of them fit.: She kept flipping, before pausing over one page in the 'Forn' section. Ben sat up a little straighter, leaning over to look at it.

"Fibromyalgia?" He asked. Jacci nodded, still frowning. Ben stuck out his lower lip, glaring at it. From what he could read with his neck craned like this, it essentially looked like a diagnosis of being in pain for no real reason. Ben had to sit back down before he got a crick in his neck, "Does that include chest pain, though? I thought stuff like that was, like, always serious."

Jacci shrugged, then started drumming on Ben's hand.

:That's like Uncle Ouduar, though- he's almost always got something wrong with him, but there's never anything wrong... like, he'll hurt his leg or have a stomach ache or something, but it's never because he's sick or really hurt- it's just a lot of pain.: She said and when Ben asked how she knew, Jacci pointed to her head, :Same way you did.:

Ben frowned a little, went back to his book to look for something else- hopefully, something that could be cured and have a cause- before he tapped another question onto Jacci's hand.

:Why do you call him that? I understand Mister Gornash and the other guy- they're both old, but... Ouduar's not that much older than us, and he's not really like an Uncle...: Jacci looked up, blinking at Ben owlishly, before she glanced down at their connected hands.

After a pause, she started to tap back to him.

:Habit, I guess. He's one of the Household members who came here after I was born- he's only been here for a few years, really. Everyone else was here before I was born. When he started living with us, Uncle Ouduar almost never left his mom alone- he's really attached to her. But he'd play with me, go with me to school, and other stuff- Neh-Nii-Kah says he's 'illiterate', 'cuz he never went before he came here, so other kids picked on him for being really old and doing first-grade homework, and having that weird way of talking, and having funny eyes...: Jacci's hands paused as Ben started snickering.

:So, you guys have a lot in common, huh?:

The next thing Ben saw was the ceiling of the library and stars from the bump on the back of his head and the throbbing in his nose. He sat up, pinching his nose shut to stop the bleeding and glaring at Jacci, who had gone back to her book.

"Ow! Geez, what was THAT for?" He shouted. Jacci didn't answer him, but it wasn't necessary as the door opened and Gornash entered with a tray of sandwiches.

"Is Ouduar okay? Anything else the Countess wants us looking up?" He asked. Gornash paused in the middle of pouring some tea.

"Ouduar? He's fine- just walked right past him."

"Then, what're WE doing in here?" Ben demanded. Gornash paused, raised his eyes to the ceiling as though pondering something, then finally sighed.

"I think Milady just forgot." Ben's face turned red, all the way up to the roots of his hair, before Jacci's hand landed on top of his and thumbed out the words,

:Welcome to the family, Ben.:

* * *

"I'm surprised that nobody recognizes him." Mara mumbled as she and Orewahime continued with their game. The other three medics had buckled under Orewahime's pressure and gone to do the tests, and Trike had gone with them, but whether it was to help with the tests or just because he didn't want to put up with Orewahime's casual manner and trash talk, Mara wasn't sure. Orewahime blasted apart a tank from the enemy, then grabbed the weapons it left on the ground. The number 1500 flashed on the screen.

"Everyone expects the great Luke Skywalker to be taller, more muscular, and more brawny. You, however, married a girly-man. And, to be frank, the actor in the holodramas is what most people think of when they hear the name- Hell, I've MET both of you, and I'm still expecting to see the actors every time I turn around. Behold, the power of the Dark Side of the Mass Media." Mara's player blasted apart a box and took the contents. The words 'Level up' flashed, even as she smirked at the term.

"Girly-man, huh? I have yet to see anyone mistake him for even the brawniest of women." She muttered. Orewahime shrugged.

"No beard, small larynx, relatively small hands and feet, skin that's pale for having worked and lived under two suns for nineteen years of his life... It might not be feminine, but it sure ain't masculine." Orewahime continued to blast at enemy soldiers, "Besides, he's too polite- real men are supposed to swear and spit and swagger." Mara snorted as she changed her weapons.

"That's just because he's a farmboy." Orewahime finished off her enemies, then paused in gathering up their supplies for herself.

"...Wonder if that's a symptom..." She muttered. Mara blinked, taking her eyes of the screen for a second, "...No facial hair, slightly higher-pitched voice, better manners- could translate into lower amounts of adrenaline and testosterone in his system... I wonder if that's a sign of something else..." There was a blast noise from the holoscreen. Mara looked back to see her player and Orewahime's both go down as a voice over from the game intoned 'Terrorists win.' Orewahime swore and turned the screen off, "...Thyroid cancer... And in the meantime, while the cancer is suppressing production of adrenaline and testosterone, his own body is producing antibodies for the cells, which get sidetracked and attack healthy tissue, which would explain other systems shutting down."

Mara opened her mouth to protest, but the door opened. Turning around, Mara saw Trike enter, arms folded over his chest.

"Very neat. Allow me to shoot it down." He put in. Orewahime turned, as well, while Trike put his hands into the pockets of his white coat, "His personality is changing."

Orewahime heaved herself to her feet and was out the door before Mara had a chance to comprehend, but she eventually followed, having to jog to catch up. Both of them entered the room Luke was in at the same moment. Mara could see definite changes from all the other problems- his skin was starting to turn a pale yellow and she could see the red and blue of his blood vessels standing out from under and around his eyes. Luke took one look towards the door and Mara heard a voice that sounded like Luke's snarl,

"Get out, you bitch."

Orewahime stopped short, even as Mara gaped at her husband.

"Gonna have to be more specific." Orewahime gestured between herself and Mara, but entered the room before Mara could smack her, "Trike, why didn't you mention his skin changing color?"

Trike stammered for a moment, before finding words.

"It was not this pronounced last time- I assumed it was the lighting." Orewahime was already creeping in closer, examining Luke as best she could.

"Don't touch me." He snapped. Orewahime ignored him as she looked over the skin on his arms- the right one still didn't have a hand.

"This isn't lighting, it's jaundice. His liver's shutting down." Orewahime lifted a hand to examine Luke's eyes- even from the door, Mara could see the yellow in his sclera. Before Orewahime even had a chance to touch him, Luke's arm shot up and took a swipe at her. His left hand scratched at her face as his right stump of a wrist beat at her ribs, and all the while, Luke was shouting,

"I said DON'T TOUCH ME!" Two of the other medics jumped in and had to pull Luke off as Orewahime pulled backwards. Even if she'd been planning to shout, she was stopped as the heart monitor started to beep again and the medical droid rolled forward with two paddles attached to a shock machine. Orewahime stayed clear and wiped blood off her face.

After a moment, she finally muttered.

"On the other hand, at least this isn't cancer."

* * *

"If he's changing personalities like that, it's most likely to be something neurological- maybe an infection that's spread to his brain." Medic A suggested as Orewahime folded a piece of flimsiplast in an accordion on the table.

"A tumor is the more likely explanation, probably in the corpus callosum. The pressure from the tumor would stop bloodflow to parts of the brain that control involuntary functions, which is why all the other systems are shutting down." Interjected Medic Interviewee. Orewahime completed her folding and started using the flimsiplast as a fan.

"It could be just myocardial infarction. It's not uncommon for sufferers of heart attacks to have trouble breathing and experience nausea and vomiting, and since he's had three cardiac emergencies within forty-eight hours, his body might just be going into a shock and trying to prepare for another." Medic B suggested. Orewahime's fan gave out and she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it for the trash can with her other eight failed attempts.

"Those are symptoms experienced during the attack, not before or after, and either way, this guy isn't a smoker, he's not overweight, he's in good shape, and it doesn't explain liver failure."

"But he's also missing a hand and he's obviously suffered a great deal of trauma and other damage to his body within the past week, if we can judge by the bruises and other ruptures. That probably means he lives a very high-stress life, which can lead to blood-pressure problems, poor circulation, and high levels of adrenaline which also contribute to heart attacks. That, and I'm pretty sure this guy is at least over fifty."

"What if it's a combination? An infection that caused some kind of damage to his liver and when he had a heart attack, it stopped blood flow to a certain part of his brain which is now causing personality changes and loss of control."

Orewahime had, in this time, folded another fan, and after a second or two of batting, it gave out and then was sent to join it's fellows in the trash bin.

"Man, do you guys SUCK!" All three of them turned to glare at Orewahime, whom had given up on the fans. Instead, she was spinning around in her chair, "It's not a tumor- there's no loss of hearing or eyesight or any of those other classic signs of cancer in the brain, especially if it's in the corpus callosum- and it's not a side effect of his heart attacks, because he had respiratory distress several hours before the first heart attack- now, if you could connect the respiratory distress to causing his heart attack, that'd be different, but it's not, and the explanations that do connect them don't explain the other symptoms."

There was a pause.

"I notice you're not shooting down infections." Medic A observed, "Is it because I have seniority with you or is this the Darth Vader that didn't get medical attention before he got shoved into his suit?"

"Whatever this is, it's systematic- first, it went for his lungs, then his heart, then his stomach and intestines, now his liver and his brain. That means it's probably suppressing his immune system, which makes infections a lot more likely. Doesn't necessarily mean an infection is causing all of these problems. Flush his system with antibiotics, then get him into a clean room."

There was a second pause.

"We need consent from the next-of-kin, before that." Medic Interviewee pointed out. Orewahime turned around and saw the chair that Mara had been taking up was empty.

"Where'd Frau Vader go?"

Mara was completely unaware of any of these discussions, mostly because she was somewhat preoccupied with her husband. There was the natural worry that comes only to those about to lose a loved one to illness, but the particular grief on Mara's mind was exactly how painful Luke's moments alive were becoming. And they were becoming painful, as each second next to him was making abundantly clear.

"That was the first time I ever heard you call a woman a bitch, to her face on top of that." Mara teased, almost beaming, "I'm proud of you, farmboy."

Luke didn't take the joke with his usual innocent farmboy humor.

"I shouldn't have said it." He mumbled, "It was a horrible thing to say."

"That's WHY I'm proud of you- I almost never hear you swear, you had her thinking that it was cancer in your thyroid or something." Mara said, firmly. Luke looked away. His face was still that pale yellow and his eyes still looked like someone had filled them up with pus.

"I attacked her. There's no excuse for that- I shouldn't have even come into this hospital. All I've done is cause trouble and make you worry, and we still have a job that we should be doing and I'm just in the way." Luke was still mumbling but Mara heard every word of it, and each syllable made her frown burrow deeper and deeper into her brow.

"Wai-... What? What kind of bug crawled into YOUR ear?" She stopped herself from smacking her idiot husband upside the head, since she just barely remembered that he was sick and in a medcenter because of it. Still, the only thing she could think of that would put a stupid idea like that into his head was because some form of insect had crawled into his ear and was whispering the phrase against his eardrum repeatedly. Luke still wasn't looking at her- to be precise, he was staring down at his stub of a right hand.

"That's all I've ever really done- I've only caused trouble for you and Han and Leia, usually because I'm so focused on something selfish like trying to restore the Order, or save the galaxy, and not because it's the right thing to do, but because it'll make me feel better. I wasn't there to save my aunt or uncle, or at least warn them to get away. I watched two masters die, and then my father, and then, just a few days after cremating his armor, I watched a boy no older than fifteen die- and he could have had a chance, but I'd pulled the bacta tube out because I was panicking and emotional and stupid." Luke's voice kept rambling, getting fainter, but Mara wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing- she'd never heard Luke talk like this.

"That's not something YOU are responsible for." Mara finally said when she'd recovered from the surprise. Luke didn't seem fazed in the least- he kept shaking his head and scowling down at his arm.

"I sent my own nephew to die on the front lines of the Yuzuhan Vong war. Han and Leia will never be the same again, Jaina almost fell to the Dark Side, Jacen underwent torture and imprisonment that he will never tell any of us about, and Tahiri was shaped by the Vong, all of it leaving damage that I doubt any of them will really recover from, and in any case, I should have stopped it from happening in the first place- I failed, as a Jedi, as a teacher, as a brother and uncle, and as a man."

Mara drew back, fixing Luke with an incredulous gaze for a long, silent moment. She couldn't understand why he was saying this, now of all times, when she'd never heard it before. Had this been nagging at Luke for all these years now, or was it something that had only just occurred to him because of the incident with the Dark Nest and Ben, or was this just another symptom of whatever was killing him already?

"No matter what you say or do, though, there are even more people who will say you've succeeded as a Human, as a peacemaker, and as a good man- anybody can be a man, but it takes more than an extra chromosome to be a good one." Mara finally managed, wrapping her hand around Luke's left wrist, "If you ask them, Han and Leia would thank you for ever appearing, because otherwise, they never would have met and then not even Jacen or Jaina would exist right now. Plenty of old friends in the Rogue Squadron and the New Jedi Order will gladly put you up for 'Man of the Century' because you were always fair and kind and diligent and loyal, and they're now better pilots or better Jedi for it. And, last I checked, there was this one woman who was really, REALLY miserable before you ever showed up... man, what happened to her, anyway? Oh yeah- she's married! And she has a kid! And she's happier than she ever thought was humanly possible. And if you try and argue with me, I'll beat you until you can't even remember your own name, let alone any 'bad' things you did." Mara gave Luke's wrist a squeeze. He still wasn't looking at her, but on the other hand, he wasn't saying anything more about all the disasters he'd lived through.

Finally, Luke's head raised and leaned back against the pillow.

"I love you." He croaked. Mara smiled a crooked, half-smile, but one which was gentle and understanding at the same time.

"I know." She put her other hand on top of Luke's, slipping her fingers between his and his thumb as her own thumb rubbed on his knuckles, "Remember when I was pregnant with Ben?" Luke blinked at her for several, long minutes, before his lips twitched a little and he nodded, "I never thought I was so close to dying as I was then, but you didn't give up, and neither did he. Now, it's my turn. Trust me."

Luke continued to blink at Mara. His yellowing eyes were glassy and glazed over and for a moment, Mara wondered if he'd fallen asleep with his eyes open, until, finally, he nodded, just a little, then closed his eyes and breathed as deeply as he could. All it did was start him coughing again. Mara closed her eyes and pushed away the little nagging voice that kept wondering what would happen if Luke died, when it would happen, how horrible it would be, and focused on opening the dam she'd kept on herself for the last few months. Every ounce of energy she had in her stores poured out and she felt her presence connect with Luke's, like the meeting of two rivers just before a waterfall into the ocean, one smooth and tranquil and deep, and the other heavy with rapids and downhill streams. It didn't matter who was who- they were both Luke and Mara, impossible to be one without the other. Mara pressed her way through Luke, forcing her energy from their joined fingers to the bottoms of their toes, sweeping through Luke's being and dragging away the pain and heaviness. Faintly, Mara heard his breathing become more even and felt his fingers grow warmer.

Still, Mara felt something else within Luke's body- something that wouldn't budge to the current running through them. It was as though the joint of their rivers was trying to drag away a ship, but even after the masts and sails and hulls broke apart and were washed away, the anchor and chain remained stuck to the bottom of the river, unmovable by anything at all. It weighed down on Mara like someone had forced a fist-sized ball of lead into her stomach.

Mara's eyes opened. Luke had closed his eyes and was in a deep, real sleep without any kind of drugs. Mara could see his skin returning to a healthier color- but the yellow tinge was definitely still there- and heard his breathing clear from the wheezing and deeper still, she could feel that his heart was beating slowly, but deeply, and in the steady rhythm that had lulled her to sleep many anxious nights.

Whatever damage had been done, it was repaired, for now. But whatever had done its damage was still there, and Mara couldn't understand what it was. Not understanding or knowing just made her more edgy, and even more so because she wasn't sure if Luke would be able to stave it off alone, or if it even could be staved off at all. Mara affectionately pinched Luke's earlobe, as though to say 'I'll scold you later.'

Mara's pondering was interrupted as she heard somebody laughing outside the door. Crossly, she got out of her chair and stepped outside, only to see Medic Orewahime with her only arm on her hip and glaring sharply enough to cut glass at Trike, whom was bellowing with laughter and leaning against the wall. Mara snapped the door shut and joined Orewahime. Trike's laughter only subsided enough for him to gasp out words.

"That is why... she did not like you when you came to the clinic!" He declared, gleefully clapping his hands and pointing at Mara. Mara raised an eyebrow at Orewahime, who was very deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Shut up, Trike!"

"No- this is too funny!"

"It ain't gon' be funny when I break your kneecaps with your own appendix."

"You will do no such thing!"

"Try me!"

Trike was still howling enough to wake a full moon. Finally, he sank to the floor- even on his knees, he was still taller than Orewahime.

"You..." He pointed at Mara, smile still firmly in place, "You are HER!" He pointed to his own mate, who then proceeded to kick him as fiercely as possible in the knee. Trike put both his hands over the injured joint, but continued to laugh.

Mara's response was to stare at Orewahime, who was still fuming in a manner that almost looked like pouting.

"Is there something you needed?" Mara finally asked. Orewahime glared at her for a moment, but did raise a datapad.

"The good news is, we know at least half of what's wrong with the Skywalker brat in there. The bad news is, it's that he's septic." Mara blinked at the term- she wasn't sure about the medical context, but she was fairly certain it meant something having to do with bacteria, "Whatever's been causing trouble has also weakened his immune system, so he's more likely than not got an infection of some kind. We need you to consent to an antibiotic treatment, and after that, he needs to be confined to a clean room to stop anything else from causing trouble."

Mara eyed Orewahime suspiciously, but looked over the consent forms and then signed at the bottom. As she handed them back, however, she noticed Orewahime had a second data card in her hand. Mara waited, looking perfectly patient when she was really seething to know what was on the other card. Orewahime took her time before she inserted the second card into the slot.

"As you just saw, yourself, your husband's beginning to experience some mood disorders. The most prevalent seems to be depression, but it could evolve into something of a bipolar effect. For this reason, he's going to need you with him, both for support and for us to be able to diagnose him, correctly." Orewahime began. Almost immediately, Mara was on her guard- this woman had not yet spoken like a real doctor during this whole process, up until now. The sudden change in attitude was alarming, in and of itself.

"So, you want me to stay with him in the clean room? Are you saying you want to put me through a similar treatment or...?" Mara trailed off as Orewahime started up the datapad again.

"I can make an appointment for you in the surgery ward." She said. Mara stared, "To remove the abnormal growth in your abdomen that is currently feeding off of your nutrients, oxygen, and blood."

Mara's stare turned icy.

"You want me to terminate the pregnancy."

Orewahime stared fearlessly back into Mara's eyes.

"Since you're almost twelve weeks along, haven't had any prenatal care, and are not of proper weight to build a proper endometrial lining, you already know that you're going to miscarry. Hell, I told you that. However, given your age, that you've been sitting next to a dying man and possibly picking up any bugs he's got in his system, and the heavy amount of scar tissue lining your uterus, that puts you at risk for complications with miscarriage or hemorrhaging, which can lead to a nasty little quirk known as Asherman Syndrome- where, if you do end up hemorrhaging and we have to cut in to control the bleeding, it takes the lining off and obliterates the cavity, which ends in amenorrhea and infertility. If you're lucky, they stitch the placenta back together and wrap it back up, but even then, the fetus usually says 'Nope, I'm not doin' this again' and then, you've got a whole mess of other complications." Orewahime paused, giving Mara a one-eyed look as though to let her absorb the idea, "Normally, this wouldn't be a big issue, but since you're the Skywalker brat's medical proxy, we can't have you suddenly fainting with bleeding from a hemorrhage and down in the Emergency Room. Terminate before any other problems can happen, everyone's safe, we've got all our bases covered, and, who knows- maybe you could try for another shot in another few years. Fail to terminate, and, worse case scenario, you end up with a hemorrhage, I've got another medical emergency on my hands, and we have no way of continuing treatment."

Mara continued to glare before she wordlessly took the pad from Orewahime.

"You had me at 'your husband will need you'." She bit out. Orewahime just raised her eyebrows and shrugged, but Mara could have sworn she saw those shoulder's relax.

"Most of my patients don't have dying husbands I can use to guilt trip them into making the best decisions for their own health." Mara signed the consent form for her own surgery and handed the datapad back to Orewahime with a frown.

"What kind of patients do you normally have?" She asked, suspiciously. Orewahime scrawled her own signature, then wrote in a time under the 'Set appointment' box.

"The fourteen-year-old kind."

"Ah."

Orewahime transmitted the form to a computer terminal, then put her hand on her hip as she turned back to Mara.

"Any other questions, Mrs. Jedi-whose-name-must-not-be-uttered?"

Mara glanced at Trike, who had apparently recovered and was now dozing on the floor.

"One. For him." Orewahime poked her partner in the ribs with her biggest left toe. Trike started awake, blinking blearily up at Mara, "How did you know that Luke's burst of anger was a change in his personality?"

Trike blinked at Mara, so she elaborated.

"You could have said he was starting to have mood swings, and, actually, ever since he came down with whatever this is, he's been pretty sharp, no matter who he talks to. When we first got here, he was still snappish with the medics who did the tests or administered meds. How would you know that his personality was changing, unless you'd known him BEFORE this?"

Trike rose to his feet, then glanced at Orewahime, as though expecting her to answer for him.

"Busted." Orewahime hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

Trike's expression soured, but he answered honestly.

"We met... briefly, several years ago. I am surprised that he did not mention it to you."

"Why would he?" Mara asked, realizing it was kind of a dumb question- Luke probably would have mentioned meeting someone as unusual as Trike, unless it had been long before Mara had met him. What confused her was how Trike reacted to her question.

"...Because... because of your..." He glanced around, and then leaned in, whispering, "...history. You were one of the Hands, correct?"

Mara's eyes went as wide as she ever thought they would and she wouldn't have been surprised if someone told her she'd jumped when she heard those words. It took everything she had not to glare at Trike with the exact suspicion and fear that she felt, especially since he was so calm about it.

"If he did not mention it, even in passing... to just another friend or Jedi, that would be one thing, but to someone with a connection like that to the Emperor- the only reason I can think of is because he was not aware he had something to tell." Trike reasoned, slowly, eyes lowering to the floor before he looked back up at Mara, "Unless he had forgotten about it, entirely."

Orewahime pulled her datapad back up and wrote on it with one of her smelly markers, this time.

"And then, there were none."

A/N: Yes, Luke being sick does have something to do with the plot- to be specific, it has to do with the whole 'past' part of the plot. And, to be honest, I wanted an excuse to bring up his survivors guilt complex. Seriously, I don't think he can NOT have one- Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru at the homestead, then Obi-Wan on the Death Star, then losing Biggs in the battle of Yavin, blah blah blah... there's gotta be a complex something awful brewing in that head.


	25. Part II: Chapter 12

CMC: Gottesfurcht

By Sapadu

Chapter 12:

"Can you see my hand?" Mara blinked at the enormous, long-fingered hand waving in front of her eyes before she started to sit up. The room spun, just a little, but she focused herself and eased away the last remains of the anesthesia. The white-haired man still known informally as 'Trike' straightened and waited for her to regain her bearings.

"I don't like being put to sleep, even if it IS for surgery." She grumbled. Trike rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then cautiously replied,

"So, would you rather be awake to see a medical droid and crazy old man staring at your nethers and inserting various medical instruments into a particularly private orifice to extract deciduous lining from your uterus?"

"...Point taken." Mara stopped herself from laughing at the image of herself staying awake through surgery to bitch at the operating doctors, "Since when are you a crazy old man?"

"To hear Kenda talk about it, since I was a teenager." Trike checked the chrono on the wall, before he sat down in a chair, "Since you did just wake up from a surgical procedure, the medics say you should not move for another twelve hours..." He gave her a glance with eyebrows raised, "But, given your reputation and that this procedure did not require any incisions and, thus, no stitches, I would think just one hour would be sufficient."

Mara frowned, still not entirely trusting of this man who, apart from not being a real medic, also apparently knew more than he was saying.

"I thought this procedure was just, essentially, inducing labor, then making sure all the remaining tissues were evacuated so I didn't get an infection or anything..." She started, slowly. Trike closed his eyes and opened them so he was staring at the wall.

"It was... but the... position was one that required... some intervention. At any rate, you probably will not feel very comfortable standing up until the dilators flush out of your system completely. That will be another hour, at least."

Oh.

"Then, why are you just sitting in here, waiting with me?" Mara asked. Trike continued to stare at the wall.

"...Kenda... MIGHT have... mentioned that something would be in it for me..." He muttered, which Mara took to mean the cranky medic had said something along the lines of 'Do it or you're sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life'.

"Then you can pass the time by telling me exactly who you are." Trike grimaced, but continued to look steadfastly in a different direction, "For starters, how you know that I was one of the Emperor's Hands– it's not something I put on my resume for a reason, and I'm pretty sure that I've never met you or anybody that knows both of us well enough that I'd tell them and they'd let it slip to you. Where'd you hear it from?"

Trike closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before answering,

"The Emperor knew you were one of his Hands."

Mara's glare didn't fade.

"He also knew that I wasn't the ONLY one, but he didn't advertise that to any of us. You're still hiding something." Every word was having a strangely powerful effect on Trike – every syllable made him cringe and curl up even tighter until Mara could scarcely believe that, uncurled and standing, he was the enormous, lurking freak of a man that he really was.

"His Eyes." Trike finally blurted out, "He tried to shape me into one of his Eyes. I have the ability to see the future in my dreams and to walk into other peoples dreaming minds. He tried to use me as a spy, but I refused to obey him – I have been a pacifist ever since I first saw blood. That is how I knew about all of his Hands and Eyes and Voices and all of the horrible things he did to the galaxy and I will thank you to just let me be in peace for once instead of blaming me and throwing it all in my face." Mara wasn't scared enough to jump or be intimidated by the man shouting – that and she was pretty sure that he wasn't going to attack her, especially if he was pacifist – but it did interest her that he was getting so UPSET about it.

"...Who'd blame you?" She asked, dipping her eyebrows. Trike's eyes remained closed, but the way he cringed was more than enough to tell Mara that he was furious with himself for letting it slip. Still, Mara was starting to place some particular features that had made her edgy at first but she hadn't been able to place – the high, steep widow's peak, the slight hook in the nose, the sharp angle of the jaw connecting with the chin, "...You know... after the crises that came when the Emperor's clones rose up and tried to reclaim the Empire, it wasn't much of a secret that he'd been experimenting with ways to clone himself and keep himself alive... but I can't help but think about C'Baoth... and wonder if maybe more than one of those experiments had been... different."

Trike's eyes were open now. They were boring out at her from between his long, white fingers in utter horror. Mara stared right back – she knew that she had hit it right on the head.

"...Ask Kenda." He finally mumbled, "...I have no desire to talk about that man."

Mara eased out of interrogation mode – something else was starting to bug her, too.

"Why're you being so helpful, then? You could have just said 'Mind your own business.'"

"Kenda told me 'Play nice or Mommy's going to put you on time-out.' When she says that, it usually means that she wants me to, how you say? Spill my guts."

"I hear that Humans have a few kilometers worth of guts stuffed into their abdomens – don't let me stop you."

Trike actually stopped cringing for several moments and gave Mara the most incredulous stare, ever.

"...You were not terribly pleased when I compared you to Kenda, and then you say something like THAT. Do you see how I am somewhat confused?" Mara wrinkled her nose with distaste, "As for how your husband would have known before you, I was, at one point a prisoner of the Empire. He rescued me and then, because I am somewhat less than capable of caring for myself and not terribly trustworthy, I was put under the custody of the Alliance of Free Planets."

"And you got out, eventually? How?" She pressed. Trike blinked, owlishly, at her.

"Kenda."

Mara digested this information a little, then decided she didn't want to push. Still, it did mean that, at some point, Luke had met this man and it had been at least more than enough that he SHOULD have remembered – the farmboy cared about other people more than for his own good, so there was no question he would have remembered someone he rescued from an Imp prison, let alone this strange man who had been a former Emperor's Eye. The question was WHY he'd forgotten. Mara continued to stare at Trike as an idea started to tug and form in her head.

"...You can see the future when you dream?" She asked, slowly. Triclops leaned backwards, against the wall.

"I did say that, yes." He agreed.

"The immediate future, or the long-term?"

"Both – they are, technically, the same thing."

"...What about events that have already taken place? Can you see those?" Trike frowned, briefly, then closed his eyes.

"If I say 'no', will you forget your idea?" Mara's lips twisted, just a little.

"In other words, you CAN. Which means you could, in theory, look backwards in history and see what happened that would cause my husband not to remember you." Trike shook his head.

"For one thing, I cannot see into the past – I can dream of things I remember, and when I look into other people's dreams, see THEIR memories, but those can be faulty, at best. True postcognition, however, is outside my scope." He explained. "For another thing, I do not see your husband in my dreams."

That, Mara hadn't been expecting. She frowned at Trike, who was staring down at the floor.

"Or, to be more accurate, I have seen him twice before, and both times, he changed the future. The first time, it was at the fall of the Empire. It HAD been his destiny to turn – he would have become a Sith, just like his father, at the Emperor's side – a Darth Filus." Mara's eyes went very round, "That is what I saw... but not what happened."

Mara bit her lip and frowned.

"And... the second time?" She asked. Trike shook his head almost immediately.

"That is not important." He said, almost too quickly, "The point is, your husband is not affected by destiny. He is unique in that respect. He has only a future and it is one that he decides for himself – unlike the rest of us, whom must bow to the will of Fate." Trike's foot traced something on the sterile floor. "He always has been different from ordinary men. All Skywalker men are."

It clicked.

"You were alive during the Clone Wars. Before Vader turned to the Dark Side." Of course, Mara supposed she should have realized this if Medic Orewahime had been around at that time and these two apparently had known each other for a majority of their lifetimes. But, more than that, Trike must have seen the fall of the Order, first hand. That was different than just being alive during that period.

"That is beside the point, Miss Jade." Trike mumbled, before Mara shouted at him.

"I AM married, you realize." She snapped, "And it's Jade Skywalker, now." Trike blinked at her, impassively, as though he meant to say 'So what' but was simply refraining from doing so, "Why do you call me that, anyway? And why does your girlfriend or whatever call the farmboy 'brat'?"

Trike's gaze remained impassive, before he stood up and opened the door to the room.

"We should check to see what Kenda has on him – maybe memory loss helped her figure it out."

Mara opened her mouth to shout after him, but the door closed. In a very bad temper, Mara swung her legs over the side of the table and started to pull off the hospital gown, looking for her real clothes. A step later, she regretted it – Trike had been right about those dilators.

* * *

"Medic Orewahime, put your shirt back on." The other medics had returned from whatever hoops Orewahime had set them jumping through about the same time Mara managed to catch up with Trike – walking had been a slow process and she'd refused to waddle – only to find Orewahime with her feet up on a table, staring at the wall with all the symptoms written on it, and wearing only her brasserie and shorts.

"Fine. Kill the heater before my sweat glands produce sweat glands of their own." Orewahime snapped, not looking over her shoulder at the crowd and thus, not noticing Mara and Trike.

"Maybe you could drink water instead of booze – I hear it does this magical thing called 'hydration'." One of the other medics suggested as they filed into the room with the various test results they'd been assigned. Medic Orewahime gave them the best disgusted look she could.

"But booze is yummy. What've you got for me?" She swiftly changed the subject. The medics looked like they were considering defying her, but were distracted as Orewahime Force-grabbed a file from one of them.

"Biopsies were clean, no heightened amyloids, blood tests are normal. Not amyloidosis, not scleroderma." One finally said, pushing the paperwork towards Orewahime. She pinned it to the table with a toe.

"How's the antibiotic treatment?"

"Just finished with it. He's in a clean room now, vomiting again. They're not working."

Mara wasn't sure if it disturbed her more that nothing was apparently showing results, or if it was that the medics didn't seem to really care that their patient – and her husband – wasn't improving. Orewahime glared at the flimsiplast reports.

"...It might be TB... if it got into his bloodstream and infected his kidneys, brain, and intestines..." The medic mused out loud, before another one stopped her.

"Already checked for it – Chest X-rays show his lungs rotting away, but no tuberculosis, skin test was negative. Not to mention if it was tuberculosis, the antibiotic treatment would be working."

"And smears will take a few weeks to develop – weeks we don't have – and can produce either false negatives OR positives." Orewahime took her feet off the table and got up to pace over to the wall, "How 'bout his liver – did it cave under interrogation?"

"Cirrhosis." That, Mara understood.

"Alcohol? Luke doesn't drink." She protested. Orewahime almost fell over as she spun around to see Mara standing in the doorway with Trike. The other medics also looked particularly surprised, but for a very, very different reason.

"Luke?" Medic Interviewee echoed. Orewahime slapped her one hand on her forehead, then glared through her single good eye at Mara.

"Why are YOU here?" She demanded. Mara didn't answer in favor of pressing Medic B about the cirrhosis.

"How much of his liver was it, anyway?" She demanded. The medic's jaw worked for a few moments, as though stunned, before she simply handed Mara the chart. From what Mara could tell, all four lobes were affected, though the medical jargon was impossible for Mara to tell if the damage was permanent or not.

"We can fix livers. And if we can't, that's what we've got transplants for. Don't freak out just yet." Orewahime interjected, but the medics were no longer listening to her.

"Medic Orewahime, are we treating the Master Skywalker of the Jedi Order?" One of them hissed. Orewahime rolled her eyes and glared at Mara for spilling the secret.

"What does it matter? A patient is a patient is a patient." Orewahime snapped. Medic A pushed his files away and leaned back in his chair.

"We could have killed him." He shouted. Orewahime wasn't intimidated in the least. Mara kept scanning the files.

"Yes, we could have. We also could have cured him. Same thing goes for every patient that comes in– we can either kill them or get them better. That's medicine for you." She was also starting to shout. Medic Interviewee passed his files over to Mara.

"Master Skywalker, I apologize for all this trouble, but we should be able to find out what's wrong with your husband..." He started, but Mara pushed the file away, frowning at all of their changes in attitude.

"I don't want your apologies. I want you guys to do your job." She said, tossing the results of the liver scan back onto the table. All of the medics stared at her, before Mara glared straight at Orewahime, "You might be a bitch, but you're right."

Orewahime promptly grinned, then leaned in Trike's direction.

"Ya hear that, Trike? I'm RIGHT! Isn't'at COOL?" She asked in the most obnoxious voice possible. Trike's face remained as impassive and humorless as ever.

"She also said you are a bitch. Which you are." He pointed out, remorselessly.

"I know. Makes you proud, doesn't it?" She turned back to the wall and wrote 'Cirrhosis' on the list of symptoms, "Okay, aside from alcohol, what else makes the liver all knobby and gross?"

"Hepatitis."

"Congestive heart failure."

"Poor diet, dehydration, prolonged exposure to toxins and medications."

"Heavy metals." This last suggestion came from Trike. All the other medics turned to stare at him, "Hemochromatosis and Wilson's disease both have liver cirrhosis as one of their symptoms because of the accumulation of iron and copper in the body, which also causes problems in the other systems."

"No steely skin color, no cataracts. Not either of those." Orewahime said this slowly, as though she, herself, didn't really mean it. Trike's frown deepened.

"It could be an abnormal case, or, possibly, he once HAD those problems but he just ignored them." Trike argued. Mara had returned to that medical dictionary and was looking up the symptoms of both diseases. Both genetic, both involving high concentrations of metal in the body -- she sincerely doubted that any medics would have missed hemochromatosis and Wilson's also resulted in copper colored rings around the corneas. She'd spent enough time gazing into THOSE baby blues enough that she would have at least noticed SOMEthing, especially since his eyes were so blue that copper rings would have stood out. Orewahime quickly pointed this out.

"Get an ultrasound for the CHF -- this is the the third time something's pointed to the heart, that makes it the most likely. Hepatitis wouldn't explain the lungs or the brain damage, but get a smear for it, see if maybe it's not connected, and would SOMEONE PLEASE TURN ON THE A/C?" Orewahime pounded her fist against the wall, then turned to shout the last bit at the other medics.

"Medic Orewahime, we're just as uncomfortable as you." Mara was about ready to leave -- she was starting to get sick of these distractions, "And the thermometer says it's just-"

"Forget the thermometer. Thermometers break, that thermometer's broken, it's been broken since... day... one." Orewahime's shouting grew quieter as she looked over towards the wall where the glass tube rested. Mara raised her eyebrows and also looked at the thermometer -- it's level rested firmly at Twenty Celsius, kind of low for the blazing heat of Coruscanti summer, but nothing that Mara could see would make Orewahime stutter to a halt like that.

"Quick history lesson!" Orewahime started to write on the window with her markers, this time, "Zero ABY, the first Death Star is destroyed, by WHOM?" All the medics blankly stared at her, but Mara finally heard one of them answer with Luke's name, "Correct. Afterwards, the Skywalker brat goes on to fame and fortune as a hero in the Alliance by becoming commander OF-?"

"The Rogue Squadron."

"Whom are all pilots and soldiers. Since they hold rank in the Alliance army, what can we automatically assume they did on days they had off and all wanted to have fun together as a group and relax?" Medic Interviewee raised his hand.

"Go out drinking." Mara understood.

"You're saying this liver damage has been there for decades?" She asked. Orewahime walked over to the wall and circled 'Cirrhosis' and 'Memory Loss', then drew lines away from them towards 'Old damage'.

"That's my hunch." She said.

"But everyone would have noticed -- he would have had so many more problems, not to mention he'd be dead. That's where the 'live' in 'liver' comes from." Pointed out Medic B, but Orewahime was already talking over her, giving Mara a sharp glance.

"Frau Vader." Mara raised one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, "When I came in earlier to get you into surgery, what were you doing to your husband that was making him better?" Mara frowned, then realized what Orewahime was getting at.

"It's a Jedi Healing Trance. It repairs damage and restores the user to health... but when I helped Luke heal himself, I could tell that we weren't getting rid of whatever was making him sick. Whatever it was is still in his system." Mara explained. Orewahime's smile grew wider and even more smug.

"My bet is he's been doing that automatically without even realizing it for years, doing all the functions his liver's supposed to be doing but never actually repairing the damage to his cells since he doesn't realize it's damaged. That takes liver damage and memory loss off the table, and now, I know what's causing all the other shit."

Orewahime strode out of the room. Mara almost chased after her, except it resulted in a rather undignified waddle, so she had to settle with limping along the best she could as the other medics out strode her and caught up with Orewahime.

"Nice limp." Trike muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Mara resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Shut up."

"Frau Vader." Orewahime poked her head out and shouted at Mara, gesturing for her to come in, "Get in here, I've got what it is." Mara limped her way into the room. All four medics were staring at Luke, as though they could see something that Mara couldn't. Luke stared back, obviously uncomfortable at the attention.

"Observe." Orewahime held up a wooden tongue depressor, before she jammed the stick into Luke's mouth. Luke automatically spat it out, "What'd you taste?"

Luke blinked, numbly, at the stick he'd spat out, before frowning.

"Metal."

Oh.

"Your husband is being poisoned with mercury."

* * *

"Well, you have certainly made a fine mess of THIS facade, Sister."

"You make it sound like I've destroyed the order of the state."

"Keep thy complaints inward until ye might prove them as such."

"...Brother..."

"As mother would say: 'Shut your hole'."

"It sounds so funny when you pronounce it with that limey accent of yours, Brother dear."

"Oh, your DEAR, am I now?"

"Would you just drop it."

"No: You started this whole mess, dragged me into it, and now, you do not even have the decency to do a good job of it. If you leave Sieur Ben at those medical books, he shall figure out sooner or later that nothing is wrong with Ouduar, AND that you knew absolutely nothing about surgery if you were letting him leave the House."

"...Really?"

"Sister, you IMBECILE."

"Oh, so you're just gonna take over and pretend to be your sister for the rest of this project? Everybody's gonna notice -- you ARE a guy, remember?"

"Whom, as you so often take joy in reminding me, still appears prepubescent enough to be mistaken for a female, and thus, be taken for his only twin sister."

"Um, Brother... Ain't 'Only twin' kinda redundant?"

"Not at all -- we could be three; you, me, and a third, triplet sister. See? Much less confusing."

"Oh my Go- Ow! What'd you slap me for?"

"Blasphemy. I do not care if we are not religious in this Household -- as long as Gornash and I go to synagog every weekend, you shall keep a clean tongue in your mouth."

"You move very fast for a guy who walks with a cane."

"Shall I strike you again, wench?"

"Okay, o-KAY. Geez."

"That is better. Now, you keep yourself hidden while I straighten out this mess you have made."

"...Yeah, you wish."

* * *

Ouduar stretched and flexed, looking perfectly fine. Well, he'd looked perfectly fine the other day, too, before he'd collapsed. Ben and Jacci had left off looking up possible causes for a heart attack that didn't involve smoking or stress when Gornash had told them the Countess had the situation under control. Needless to say, Ben was a little peeved with the busy work – almost like she'd done it on purpose, or something.

"You sure you're feeling better?" Ben asked, as Ouduar checked his bag and sorted through the various paints and brushes he had. Ouduar shrugged.

"Sure. Lungs still burnin', arms still ache, still feelin' sick, head still hurts. Yeah, 'm good."

"...Um..." Ben frowned, "...Is that sarcasm or..." Ouduar smiled, thinly, as his spectacles caught a gleam of light that made his eyes vanish.

"No, really. I'm fine."

Ben still wasn't entirely convinced.

"If your lungs feel on fire, that's not 'fine', Ouduar." Ben muttered. Ouduar kept shrugging, apparently not caring, "What is WITH you?"

"It doesn't matter. I can just grit my teeth and suck it up." Ouduar stretched, then pulled out a roll of paper with pictures on it.

"I tried doing that when I was little once – Uncle Han told me that only stupid guys just ignore it when something hurts. It's not manly or cool or tough." Ben snapped, getting off his chair and squatting on the floor as Ouduar flicked his fingers over his brushes, testing the bristles.

"I don't really care about any of that. If you're a man, you're a man and that's that. How you act doesn't have anything to do with it." Ouduar shrugged, as though he weren't really listening. Ben was starting to wonder if he should punch this guy and just get it over with when, "It's better than not being in pain. It scary when nothing hurts."

Ben clenched his fist, then unclenched it, digesting these words. Ouduar opened up a box filled with pellets of dried ink and popped one in his mouth, chewing until he spat out a mouthful of beetle blue ink, his brush diving into the spot on the paper and quickly spreading and swirling it around into shapes on the paper. Ben tipped his head to the side, seeing the shapes it formed but not really watching Ouduar paint. It didn't make sense – pain was a bad thing, so it would be scary to hurt and not know what it was than not, right? And it had to be better, too – it meant you were okay when nothing hurt. It was simple logic, if a bit circular, but it made more sense than...

"Human beings are flawed, by nature. There's no such thing as the perfect person, so it only makes sense that there's something wrong with us. But if there's something wrong and nothing hurts, you never know there's anything not working. I think that's the most frightening thing that could happen to anyone." Ouduar put another pellet in his mouth and started to spit out a dark shade of indigo, spattering it with his brush as he spoke, "It's a basic rule that pain alerts the body when something goes wrong, but if there's always something wrong, there should always be pain. Yet, for some reason, there isn't – our natural condition is to not feel any pain, even though we're broken, damaged beings by nature." Ouduar's spectacles gleamed, but Ben could sense the older boy's eyes staring at him, "Doesn't that frighten you? Such a glaring breech of the rules?"

Ouduar's picture still had no real, specific shape – at least, not one that Ben could see just staring at it straight on. When he moved his head, Ben caught the impression that it was a group of specific shapes all mashed together, like a herd of striped animals crowding together for camouflage. It gave Ben the shivers, just like everything else about this guy.

"Rules are made to be broken. Uncle Han says it, Aunt Leia says it, Jacen says it, the Countess says it... sometimes, Mom and Dad say it... You can't just go by the rules all the time." Ben wasn't sure if he meant it, but the words came out with a lot less venom and hostility than he'd planned to put into his retort. Even worse, he wasn't sure if he'd lost his edge on purpose or not.

Ouduar's head turned enough that Ben could see one of his eyes through the lenses without the glare. Just like he'd thought, Ouduar was staring straight at him. It didn't last long – Ouduar quickly picked out a red pellet from his ink box and spat a bright crimson on the paper. Spots of it turned the blues into violets, but the rest, Ouduar used to trace lines and shapes, bringing the shapes into more distinct formation. Ben continued to tilt his head back and forth, trying to see what it was supposed to be.

"Ben, I love you." Almost immediately, the hair on Ben's head stood on end. He'd thought something had been missing, before he stopped to think about why Ouduar would just say it, right out of the blue like that. The last time Ben had heard Ouduar say The Phrase That Must Not Be Uttered, he'd also mentioned something else... which meant...

"Ouduar... did the Countess tell you to do this? Like, as work or something?" Ben asked, cautiously. Ouduar continued with his work, adding in a rich, earthy yellow.

"Why'd you ask?"

"Because you SAID that the Countess said something to you – that her words 'made sense' or something." Still, Ouduar did not stop with his painting.

"That person told me just one thing: That person said 'This kid needs to hear those words more than anything else in the world.' Didn't tell me that I had to say them or anything like that – just that you needed to hear it." Ben pulled the most sour face he could, but Ouduar wasn't finished, "You said your parents never said it, so... just filling in the gap."

Ben had thought he'd been making the most sour face he could, but now, he realized he was mistaken.

"They're not bad parents." He snapped, "And I KNOW they love me without having to hear them say it – I'm smart enough." Ouduar spat out a mouthful of acid green ink.

"Never said you weren't – it's just that knowing it and hearing it are two different things, and you still need them both."

"Mom and Dad are just fine – I might not agree with a lot of stuff they do, but they're still my parents."

"Even good people make mistakes."

Ben hadn't expected Ouduar to be the one to say that – really, Ben had expected that he'd start listing all sorts of screw-ups, which Ben would be able to cap with 'Everyone makes mistakes'. As he couldn't do that, he had to settle with,

"RIGHT. Everyone makes mistakes. It's normal for people to make mistakes."

"But only INTELLIGENT people learn from them. We screw up so we can learn not to make the same mistake twice. Sure, you screw up with one kid – next one that comes along, you shouldn't screw up. Seems pretty simple to me."

Ben blinked several times, wondering where THAT had come from. It was like Ouduar was chewing pellets of random letters and spitting out the most bizarre non-sequiturs known to man. Ouduar pushed one finger into his mouth and scraped all the paint off his tongue and added it to the paper.

"...So... you think that Mom and Dad should already know better with me for some reason?" Ben finally guessed. Ouduar shrugged.

"Dunno 'bout your mom. But your father, absolutely."

"...Why?"

Ouduar didn't answer. He just picked up his paper and shook it, blowing on the ink to dry it before he stretched.

"Did that person tell you 'zactly why we're not going out, today?" He asked. Ben pouted, debated if he should refuse to answer until Ouduar answered his question, then decided against it.

"She said there's been news about a serial killer going around lately, so staying inside would be the safest option." Ouduar chewed on a fingernail and hummed, noncommittally, "...Thought you would say something like 'It'll be okay' or something like that."

Ouduar shrugged again.

"Can't. For all I know, it might not be okay."

'Compared to yesterday, when you said all sorts of stupid stuff that couldn't possibly be true, and turned out to be, anyway.' Ben thought, wondering if there was some conspiracy going on behind his back to keep him confused.

"So, you don't ever want to say anything that turns out to be wrong?" Ben asked – if he'd known what the word meant, he would have known he was sneering, "Why don't you just never say anything? That's the only surefire way to never turn out wrong."

Ouduar looked like he was considering the idea, then started rolling up his paper.

"...It's not so much that as it is I can't say anything that isn't true. Y'know... kinda like I can't fly, with the whole not-having-wings bit."

"Oh." Pause, "...So, you can't lie, even if it's to save your own butt? That must be irritating." Ouduar shrugged, "Could you just give me a straight out answer for once? I'm REALLY getting sick of all these cryptic riddles." And he was – every time he asked anyone in this House a question about... well, mostly everything... they either told him to ask someone else, or they'd spit out something indecipherable and vague.

"Just say so, then." Ouduar's answer, while simple enough, still got on his nerves.

"I just DID."

"Then order me." Ouduar said. Ben blinked at him, caught completely off guard.

"...What? Order?"

"Give me a command – Ouduar, tell me the truth without any riddles or dodging." Ouduar repeated, "Go on."

"No." Ben was surprised how quickly he spat it out, but supposed he shouldn't have been – he never really did like taking orders or anything like that, even if the order was to give someone else a command. Maybe it was because of that, but he didn't want to boss anyone else around, either.

Ouduar continued to shrug. Ben was getting sick of him shrugging all the time, too.

"And quit shrugging every time I say something." Ben snapped, feeling even more irritable. Ouduar raised an eyebrow and Ben could have hit himself for contradicting himself so quickly.

"As you wish." Ouduar finally said. He didn't shrug again. Ben put the first two fingers of both hands against his temples and concentrated for a moment before he managed to think of a better way to say what he was thinking.

"I take it back. Shrug all you want, I don't care." Briefly, Ben considered apologizing for snapping in the first place, but Ouduar seemed almost hurt by the fact that Ben had taken back his command. In the end, all he did was shrug and say,

"Okay."

There was an awkward quiet as Ben pieced together the things he'd gathered about Ouduar during this conversation.

"...So, you can't lie, you can't say something that's incorrect, and you can't disobey orders..." He counted off on his fingers, "Anything else I should know?"

Ouduar's eyes went to the ceiling. Ben stopped him before he could open his mouth,

"And if you say 'I love you' one more time, I'm gonna punch you." Ouduar remained silent and Ben decided to raise a finger, just in case Ouduar tried to bring it up later, "So, aside from those four things, what else is there I should know about you?"

"...Sounds like all you really need to know if someone asks you 'bout me." Ouduar mumbled, shrugging. Ben stared at him for a long moment.

"...Sounds like it really SUCKS to be you." He finally concluded. Ouduar's shrug was less dispassionate than his last.

"Not really. I'm better off now than I was 'bout... three years ago. Place to live, food to eat, not have to steal for anythin' or always be running from officials. My mom's still with me, I'm actually getting schoolin' when there's time, and now, I've got a real friend. Can't really complain." Ouduar lay back down on the floor and stretched his back and legs. Ben watched the appalling display of manners with curiosity.

"What happened to your dad?" He asked. Ouduar stiffened, then dropped so he was relaxed again. Ben felt a nasty lurch in his stomach, "...Sorry... your dad's not... dead, is he?"

Ouduar pulled out one of his smoking sticks and put it in his mouth, still shrugging.

"Nah. Just never there." Ben watched, leaning away as Ouduar fumbled for his lighter.

"So he... ran out on your mom?" Ben pushed. Ouduar shrugged again and lit up.

"Dunno. Mom never talks 'bout it." He took a long drag on the stick – Ben could see the end of it glow as the stick itself started to turn black and wilt, "Oh, she'll talk about him – stuff like how proud he would be or how much I look like 'im... then again, mom's sick so, he might've been a real ass and she's just too stupid to know it."

Ben continued to quietly watch Ouduar, wondering how he could have possibly missed the fact that Ouduar was a person – it hadn't been so much that he thought of Ouduar as something else, just that it hadn't really occurred to him that the older boy thought and felt like normal people. He was just... there.

The same way most everyone else was just there.

* * *

"This is NOT gonna work." Han mumbled, pouring over the invitations Leia had organized. Leia glanced up from her list of guests and caf to glare at him.

"Why didn't you say so before?" She asked. How she kept the annoyance out of her voice, she wasn't sure, but she managed all the same.

"I DID say so before." Han was either making no attempt or he was much worse at the feat, but Leia heard his annoyance loud and clear.

"That doesn't mean we can't at least manage some benefit from this. The idea is to get back inside that house and find out more about who we're dealing with. You're just jumpy because you thought you saw something." Leia drained her mug and tried to look busy to avoid looking at her husband.

"I didn't THINK -- I SAW a kid we've been assuming was dead for thirty years." Han hadn't touched his caf. It was probably for the best, since he was nervous enough without the stimulant.

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts." She shot, not watching his expression.

"I don't. And I don't think it was a GHOST I saw." Han shot back, just as much avoiding her gaze. Leia didn't notice.

"How can you be sure it was even the same person? Similar features can have a psychological effect on someone who's already worried about something – I'm willing to bet you saw Boba Fett in nearly every armored and masked bounty hunter during the Civil War." Leia tried to steer the topic onto a much less volatile subject, checking off the last of the people she wanted to see at this wake. Given that Tycho had been a pilot of the Rogue Squadron, she figured it would only be appropriate for Wedge and Wes to be there.

"Because it WAS. It wasn't just someone who LOOKED the same, it was someone EXACTLY IDENTICAL. And, last I checked, the kid didn't have any BROTHERS!"

"Why are you shouting?" Leia managed to keep her voice perfectly level. Han stopped, "Are you trying to scare me? What's so scary about you – more shouting? Physical violence would be scary, but I'm pretty sure I can take you on... not to mention that you wouldn't even think of trying."

Han looked up from his list of Correllian buddies to invite long enough to scowl at Leia.

"Besides, if nothing else, we should be able to give everyone else a chance to get as far away from the CMC as possible if she's not all sweetness and light like she pretends to be." Han irritably ground his teeth before the door slid open. Han craned his neck to see Threepio in the doorway and it wasn't holding a tray of freshly brewed caf.

"Mistress Leia..." Leia got out of her chair, as though expecting Threepio to hand her something, "There is a comm call for you... from a medic regarding Master Luke."

A/N: At long last, this chapter is finished. After... how many months ago did I start this?


	26. Part III: Chapter 1

CMC: Schadenfruede

By: Sapadu

Chapter 1:

"Mercury? Then why aren't any of US sick?" Leia wanted to know. Han kept throwing the medical cabinet glances, as though he expected something to jump out and attack him with a syringe. Mara was still at Luke's side, holding onto his one hand. The dimercaprol treatment was working, but both Han and Leia were still utterly baffled as to how it could have escaped their attention.

"His case is acute poisoning – it's probably more likely that it's only been from recent exposure to a specific source. As such, y'all might not have had the same exposure, or you could be metabolizing it at different rates." Put in the abrasive voice of the medic that had been treating Luke. Leia didn't recognize the name, but Han seemed to remember it better. He said it was Correllian.

"So... you want us to go through treatment or something?" Han asked in that tone that clearly said he wasn't in the mood to be jerked around.

"A history so that I can tell if there's some environmental cause behind the poisoning. If not, then we've got a murderer on our hands." The medic corrected, then felt the need to add, "And I guess you could get tested for poisoning. Or not, I really couldn't care less."

Leia could hear Han snarl something under his breath. She kept quiet, preferring to consider all the possible places that this could have come from. And, for that matter, that Mara wouldn't have thought of first.

"We all spent the past two weeks in the Unknown Regions – there could have been any number of..." Leia began, stopping without being prompted exactly as the medic woman interrupted.

"Yeah, Her High Red-headed-ness told us about that already." Mara scowled in the medic's direction, who continued to talk, oblivious to the disdain, "She also mentioned the little Skywalker-ling who was also on board her ship. If there was something in the Unknown Regions that got DADDY sick, then baby would also be poisoned."

More than ever, Leia almost felt sick when she remembered that Ben was in the CMC's house. From the look on Han's face, he was thinking along the same lines.

"Are you doing this on PURPOSE?" Mara asked, though with distinctly less agitation than Leia had expected. It wasn't as though Mara wasn't annoyed – more tired of showing it all the time. Which could only mean that this medic had already thoroughly pestered both Luke and Mara, before Leia and Han had ever arrived.

"...So... wait, y'all don't even KNOW if he's sick or not?" The medic asked. She didn't sound the least bit displeased, either. Leia didn't answer.

"Ben's been staying at a friend's house for the last few days." Mara finally put in, in a tone that almost seemed to say 'So there.'

The medic grinned, her eyes lit up with utter glee.

"Trike! Didya hear THAT?" She asked, her voice going up in delight.

"No." Called a voice from outside the door. The hairs on the back of Leia's neck stood up – it seemed very familiar, even without a face to go with it. Furthermore, that 'No' had been more of a 'No, I didn't WANT to hear you' than a 'No, I didn't hear you.'

"We got another patient to check up on..."

"Kenda, no..."

"And THAT means..."

"I said NO!"

"FIELD TRIP!"

The medic got out of her chair and positively skipped out of the room.

* * *

"Trust me, it's a lot better now that she's gone." Mara told her in-laws. Both Han and Leia had been completely taken aback by Orewahime's demeanor, none of it fading as the meeting had progressed. Mara, at least, had recovered relatively quickly.

"We figured." Han muttered, glancing towards the door as though afraid Orewahime would come back in.

"What did you want to talk to us about?" Leia asked, pacing forward and putting her hands on the footrail of Luke's bed. Mara stood up and tried to coax Luke into a sitting position. What she had on her mind was for Luke's ears, too.

"What she said about the exposure." Mara spoke quietly – she didn't know how secure the room was, nor who might be in the hospital. Leia and Han both moved in closer, "Orewahime's right about a source that only Luke could have been exposed to, one that none of us were exposed to... while we were in the Unknown Regions."

Leia frowned.

"But we were all in a group, everywhere, while we were there. There wasn't any place that..." She protested, but Han's eyes were going very slowly wide. It was as though he were seeing something Mara and Leia couldn't.

"The CMC's sick bay." He muttered. Luke didn't say a word, but he had a similar look on his face. Mara knew she'd hit the right target.

"Exactly."

"All of us were in there, too. If there was a leak in her pipes or something in the walls..." Leia started, then stopped at the grave look on Mara's face. In an instant, Mara could see her sister-in-law working out the suspicions she had, "You think the CMC POISONED Luke? Deliberately?"

Mara clicked her nails on the metal rail, irritably, as she thought.

"Luke was completely unconscious and we left him alone with her for several hours. Furthermore, she's a well-known collector of poisons, AND has a sufficient medical background to know how to administer it in a precise dose that wouldn't present with symptoms until later." She lifted her fingers as she counted the points off. Luke was still staring at his sheets, frowning.

"You've got a point there..." He started speaking, slowly, "...But I don't think she is the one who actually poisoned me."

Mara had expected this kind of naivete from her husband. Luke was just too damn trusting for his own good, and she hadn't doubted he would be the same towards the Countess.

"It sure don't seem like the sorta thing she'd do..." Han muttered, then added, when Mara gave him one of her interrogating looks, "It's the first thing ANYONE would suspect, and she's smart enough to know better than to make a stupid mistake. Only thing dumber would be stabbing someone and leaving fingerprints on the blade."

Mara stopped glaring.

"Course, she coulda had someone else do it." Han immediately amended. That, Mara agreed, was definitely a more likely story, and the much smarter alternative that the CMC would have taken, if she had, at all.

Leia had been surprisingly quiet.

"I don't think she did anything, with an accomplice or otherwise." She suddenly said.

Mara couldn't believe what she was hearing; from her husband's incredibly intelligent twin sister, no less.

"Luke, you probably don't even remember how she acted with the Chiss." Leia continued, running one finger along her thumbnail, "They came to us on the Falcon first, demanding to see you, then they went over to her sickbay..."

Han raised both his eyebrows.

"What'd, she lecture them to death or something?"

"Actually, she broke the Aristocra's wrist, then threatened his bodyguards with their own blasters."

There was a long silence before Luke let out a low whistle. Mara was keeping her face perfectly straight, but in a very tight, strained way to stop herself from smiling.

'She really doesn't take spit from anybody, does she?'

"But everyone knows that she has a collection of poisons. That makes it more likely that somebody else – maybe on her staff or maybe an outside party – would steal one of them and try to use it against her..." Leia went on.

"She would not have mercury." The door slid open and Trike slid into the room.

Either he hadn't joined Orewahime for their 'field trip' or he was quicker than Mara had anticipated.

Any further observations Mara could have made were interrupted by the Solo's reactions. In all honesty, Mara had expected it – she'd seen the man before and would still testify that he was creepy enough to spook her if he just suddenly appeared out of thin air. Han, in response, had fallen completely off his stool and Leia had jumped and slid backwards until her back was up against the wall.

Luke didn't even flinch until he heard the crashes.

"...Maybe... you shouldn't do that..." He finally suggested. Trike at least had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"That concept did just occur to me, too..." He agreed.

Han struggled back into his seat, somehow without using his hands or his feet touching the floor.

"Who the KRIFF are you?" Was the shout Mara heard. She had, by this point, closed her eyes in an attempt to control her temper – she was getting anxious to stay on task, and distractions were not conducive to solving an attempt on her husband's life.

"He's called 'Trike' by Medic Orewahime and is her partner-in-crime." She explained, as calmly as she thought she could manage. Han didn't say anything and Mara could guess the incredulous look he was giving Trike, before the man himself interjected,

"Or, at least, I will be, once Kenda loses her medical license."

"And what'dyou do all day? Scowl at people until they're all better?"

'Must... not... choke... Man... is... family...' Mara told herself. Trike, whom had not so much as even taken a step into the room yet, started to slide the door shut again.

"I can point out obvious facts that everyone else seems to have missed." It sounded much more like a challenge than any of his previous statements, "For example, you said this CMC person has a collection of poisons. Any person who collects such things would go to lengths to keep their variety of the rare and obscure. Mercury is a very common substance – we use it in thermometers, electronics, chemistry tests, paint pigments, and some less scrupulous practitioners use it in tooth fillings. Therefore, it would not be of any value to a collector."

Mara finally opened her eyes again. It was all very true, and, in retrospect, it fit perfectly with the Countess' character. She simply wasn't interested in ordinary, boring subjects. Something like mercury probably held no interest for her.

"Second, mercury is not considered a poison – it is a metal. It can be toxic, but toxicity is not its primary trait. Therefore, it would be out of place in a poison collection."

Again, spot on the Countess' personality. And, given her behavior so far, she would be one to nitpick over that kind of detail. The real question lay in how this guy would know that, but Mara really wasn't in the mood to point it out, especially when it didn't seem likely to have any relevance to the task at hand.

"So, that puts us back at the idea that it's somebody from the outside..." Luke surmised, reaching up to scratch at his scalp. Mara instinctively put a hand on his stub of a wrist to stop him.

"Which means we're screwed." Han reasoned. The door opened again, before it fully shut after the first time.

"Somebody who was either with you on your mission to the Unknown Regions, or who knew you'd been there. Somebody who also knew about this CMC's presence, as well as her collection of poisons. Somebody who knew that Master Skywalker was injured. And, most likely, somebody who has a background in assassination and hunting their prey." Trike interrupted, coming fully into the room and making himself comfortable in the corner, this time.

At least Han didn't jump out of his chair, but both the Solos kept casting Trike very uneasy glances.

"We ain't asking you." Trike ignored Han.

"Somebody who knew any of you, personally and intimately, would leave some sort of sign that it was a personal murder. This case could be, for all appearances, just the result of an industrial accident."

"Which makes assassination more likely. And a very skilled professional, thus probably a very expensive professional, if they are able to do this without leaving any evidence for the last week or so." Mara agreed, sliding into her own professional assassin mode. Assassins were always expensive – given that their profession was, technically, illegal – but incompetent ones just didn't have leverage to force their clients into the higher prices. Good ones – the ones that never got caught – had that privilege. And they always took it.

"Then, they would also know to pick a heavy metal toxin, given that a trip to the Unknown Regions could have new and dangerous elements in atmosphere and soils on different planets. And, of course, the prolonged voyage with numerous star fights, chases, and escapes makes mechanical malfunction more likely, so mercury is the most likely heavy metal that a passenger would be exposed to on those ships, which would serve as excellent camouflage for a murder. And, with a collector of poisons whose eccentric behavior has been widely reputed joining you, in the unlikely event that someone deduces that it was not an accident, there is a convenient scapegoat to keep detectives off the real trail." Trike didn't look like a detective working out the facts of a case – he was lurking back by the wall, almost like a creepy villain describing exactly how he'd plotted the perfect murder.

"Meanwhile, knowing that Luke had been injured and spent some time in sickbay would give them information that he would be vulnerable to any toxins in his environment and it would make diagnosing even more difficult for any medics who treated him, which would give the mercury more time to cause damage, and thus, more likely to be fatal." Mara could see Leia and Han looking back and forth between them, watching their sentences and ideas fit together.

"So, we have a rich, influential individual who knows that you were all in the Unknown Regions a week ago, traveling with the CMC, that Master Skywalker was injured, and is able to employ a professional assassin capable of disposing of Jedi, possibly even being well-acquainted with Master Skywalker on a personal level enough to give their contract information about his abilities."

Mara's mind turned over, several times. The younger Jedi knew all the required information, but none of them met the requirement of being able to hire an assassin. The Countess, they had ruled out completely, and her staff had none of the materials or freedom necessary to off the Grand High Jedi Master and get away with it under the CMC's nose. Of course, there was the possibility that the younger Jedi had related the account of the events to others in the Temple and the word had gotten around... but that would take much more time to reach the ears of someone with a vested interest in killing Luke and making it seem like an accident.

"Princess Leia." Mara had been so deep in thought that she'd almost forgotten that Han and Leia were in the room. Leia's squeak of uncharacteristic nervous at Trike's voice almost made Mara jump, too, "What did you and Missus Celchu talk about when you went to visit?"

This time, Mara was almost certain that Trike was just trying to freak them out or show off; then, when she turned to stare at him, he was truly, honestly staring at Leia with some vested interest.

"...I... Excuse me?" It was the first time that Mara had ever heard Leia so taken aback – moreover, so taken aback that she would actually stammer her reply. Leia just wasn't one to admit when she was caught off guard.

Trike awkwardly lifted his hand – as though he didn't know how to properly lift his arm – and pointed to Leia's wrist. Tied around it was a thin bracelet, as though made of yarn. Mara had seen it before, but never really attached any importance to it, anymore than any other kind of jewelry another woman might wear.

"For a woman who was once a Senator and is currently the co-pilot of a smuggling vessel, a piece like that would be impractical. That probably means you had it on for a reason, and due to it's uneven wear and irregular pattern, it's handmade, which makes it likely to be a treasure from either a friend you didn't want to offend, or a piece of memorabilia from that specific age when girls will make trinkets like that for their friends. You probably went to see a friend that you've had since childhood, and put that on because you associate it with fond memories of that friend. For anyone who knows the figure of Princess Leia, they would also know that would point to Winter Celchu, a fellow Alderannian and the only person alive today who would have known you as a child. Because you haven't removed it yet, it must have been recent – likely around a week or so – before something else urgent distracted you."

It took a few moments of silence – ones in which Mara could guess that Leia had, indeed, shared a narrative of their exploits with Winter – before anyone found words.

"...You just accused Winter of being behind this." Leia's voice was soft and calm and icy cold. Mara suspected that if Leia had spoken any louder, she would have been trembling fit to shake tectonic plates, so great was her anger. Trike tipped his head in a perfect ninety-degree angle, his face perfectly bland. It was as though he expected Leia to say something more.

"She fits all the requirements, Leia." Mara agreed, still thinking from the perspective of a hunter. When Leia turned her glare on Mara, she didn't hesitate, "Winter knows where, with whom, for how long, and what happened when Luke was gone, she's known him long enough – through you and work with the Alliance – to have a grasp of his abilities, she's been trained with weapons and is enough of a professional to know exactly what the best way would be to bring him down, and she has the resources and intelligence to know to hire a professional assassin who couldn't be caught or traced to her."

Leia's whole face had gone white, as though she'd frozen in place to prevent herself from pouncing on her sister-in-law and tearing her apart.

"Winter would have no motive!" Leia finally managed. Mara shrugged.

"Motive doesn't have anything to do with it. There are more than enough people in the galaxy who would have motive to kill any of us off, but if we went by those, we'd eventually start trying to force the facts to fit our theories, not the other way around." She refuted, and before Leia could start, "Besides, Winter's well known for making deception her business. It's something all spies can do – she might just have a motive that she's concealed from all of us."

Leia opened her mouth, this time her lips visibly shuddering, but no sound came out. It was all Mara needed to know she'd struck Leia where it would really hurt, and the pain was only there because every word had rung true.

"I don't believe it." This time, it came from Luke. Mara turned to meet Luke's gaze and he wasn't, as she'd suspected, staring at his hands in hopelessness. Luke was actually meeting her eyes, holding her gaze steady and sure. It wasn't just the farmboy – it was Luke's instinct talking. Mara usually trusted Luke's instincts.

"You FAIL!" The door was pushed fully open by Orewahime's bare foot.

"Back so soon?" Trike asked, dryly.

"Sounds like y'all got to it quicker 'an me – no leaks, broken wires, pipes, lights, circuits; nonna that shit wrong with the ship."

Mara hadn't known her brain could switch gears so quickly.

"You broke onto my ship?" She demanded. From the sound of it, Han had gotten over his temporary intimidated silence and gotten to his feet for the exact same reason. Orewahime was grinning so wide that Mara could count the number of fillings on her back molars.

"And the Temple. Nice quarts y'all got there, brat!"

* * *

Ben jolted awake at a loud crashing sound. The room was still pitch dark and he was still half asleep from his long day, but he was also fairly convinced it had come from the room just below him. And it had sounded like something very big had broken. Like a window.

"Ben; you awake, mate?" Ben heard Ouduar's voice come through the wall.

"I am, now." Ben muttered back. In less than a moment, a panel of the wall popped open and Ouduar wiggled his way through it, landing neatly on his feet like a feline, "What did you want?"

Ouduar made a shushing gesture, then pressed his ear to the floor. Ben tumbled off the mattress and mimicked the gesture. Sure enough, he could hear something from the room below, muffled and panicked, but still audible. Ben's eyes widened.

"You heard it, too?" He whispered. Ouduar nodded. Only half his face was visible in the darkness, but the half Ben could see, he could also see Ouduar's eye impossibly wide and round.

They heard another crash, this time from something much smaller and obviously less breakable. Ben wasn't even sure what was in the room beneath him, nor how he would be able to get there. Ouduar also appeared to be thinking along the same lines, because Ben could see a grin split on his face.

"Wanna go and check it out?" The way he said it, it sounded like a great adventure, like an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. In all honesty, Ben kind of did want to check it out. He knew it was a stupid idea, but it wasn't like he was going to be able to stay calm if he stayed in his room. And, on the off chance it was something dangerous, it wouldn't do him much good to stay put and just wait for the intruder to come and get him.

Ben nodded. With another grin, Ouduar had a paint knife out of his pocket, prying up the floorboards within minutes. Directly beneath them, there was a lined corridor, as though somebody had known they would attempt this at some point. Not worried in the slightest, Ouduar dropped down and started creeping forward. Ben followed him.

Through the shaft, Ben heard the sound of somebody in the room below much more distinctly than through the floor. He could also hear someone muttering and cursing to himself.

"Ouduar... you know who that is?"

"No clue. Either way, he won't last long." Ouduar muttered back, and when Ben glanced up at him, explained, "That person doesn't like intruders. Last one was some bloke after that Musician for some reason – next evening, we had some pretty suspicious stew." Ben felt his face drain of it's color, "Don't worry, none of us were that hungry, anyway."

"And the whole..." Ben looked around the passageway, fumbling for an appropriate description.

"This ain't the only little nook hidden round the House." Ouduar brushed it off, "You should see the third floor – nothing but hidden rooms and secret passages."

Ben didn't find that too hard to believe – he'd seen strange things inside the House. Without needing further questions, Ben wormed his way after Ouduar. Under them, Ben could hear thumps and scrapings and any other number of sounds that didn't sound like they belonged in the House. Either that, or the room under their feet was a messy, crowded room for some purpose that Ben couldn't contemplate.

Ben almost opened his mouth to ask Ouduar what kind of room it was, except in the next moment, they heard a scream. Loud and clear, a perfectly Human voice pierced right through the floor, and Ben felt his hands slip on the floor as he recognized it.

It was Haid's voice.

Ouduar froze in his spot, then dropped to press his ear flat on the floor. Ben did the same and heard, clear as the glass on a mirror, two voices in the room below them.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?" It was a rough, but squeaky voice. The demanded questions were more frightened than menacing, but Ben could hear desperation. It was as though the speaker were clearly terrified but wanted to sound intimidating because he was frightened. Ben had never heard this voice before, but he could still imagine how the man must have looked – sweating, shaking, and hunched-over. There were drawn out, shaking gasps, both from Haid and from the stranger's voice, then a rattle and a click that Ben recognized as a blaster being handled.

"Get... get out of here!" That was Haid's voice that Ben recognized, even if, for a second, he almost didn't. She sounded so... what was the word for it? Pathetic, almost. Small, whimpering; Ben had a mental image that she was hiding behind a chair.

"Keep quiet!" That gruff voice squealed.

Ouduar sat up. Ben did the same, a little too quickly, and banged his head on the ceiling of the tunnel. As soon as the stars cleared out of his vision, Ben saw Ouduar start to move again. It wasn't even like Ouduar was scurrying along the passage in a hurry to get to the other end – he was just moving along.

"Um... Ouduar?" Ben finally asked after staring at Ouduar's feet for a few moments. Ouduar craned his neck enough that Ben could see his face.

"It's that Musician. We don't need to worry about HER." Ouduar said with a shrug. Then, he turned back and continued crawling forward. Ben remained rooted to his spot, like his hands had melded with the floor of the tunnel. Ouduar went around a bend and vanished, but Ben put his ear back down to the floor. Listening to the noise at least felt like he could have some idea of what he could do, even if it ended up being something lame like dropping through the ceiling and landing on the bad guy.

Haid was still quietly protesting, though her voice was indistinct. Ben had the feeling that he wouldn't have understood her, even if he'd been in the room. After just a moment, though, Ben heard a fleshy click, like someone grabbing another person, bare flesh on flesh.

"Shut up! I'm not here to hurt you or anyone!" There was that simpering, rough voice again, and Ben somehow imagined the owner with one hand clasped around Haid's in pleading, but simultaneously holding a blaster to her chin.

"Who sent you here?" Haid's voice finally came back to full volume, still shuddering, but with a proper demanding tone to it. Ben pressed his ear so flat against the floor that it went numb.

"It's none of your business; now, keep your mouth shut or I'll burn a hole through your skull!" Ben was starting to hear other noises, faint and almost mixed into the white noise of the tense silences, except he heard the occasional jolt. It sounded like wires being flexed and thin string being whipped through the air. He wasn't sure, but to Ben, it sounded too loud to be his imagination, and still too quiet to be real.

"Who let you into the House? I can't let you get past when someone let you in!" Haid shrilly replied.

"I told you to shut up!" There it was, again. Ben could hear the twanging sound that rippled through the air, but it was so quiet that he wondered if he was just hearing things or if it was from the metal panel he had his ear pressed up against. Ben wished he could see what was going on, but his body just didn't want to move. He wasn't even sure if he should see this.

The next minute, he heard a shout that was so loud and terrifying that Ben sat right up and hit his head on the ceiling again. Even without his ear pressed to the floor, he could hear the intruder's voice howling and Haid screaming something inarticulate. He felt the floor rumble under his knees and a thump came from the other side of the vent, like a heavy ball had smashed into it.

"Tilus!" Haid was screaming. Directly beneath his feet, Ben heard snarling noises and repeated thumps on the floor. Each one almost seemed like something out of a horror drama that his parents wouldn't allow him to see, making Ben's skin shudder like it was peeling off. He pushed himself away from the noise as far as his feet would take him. The noise seemed to follow him, even though Ben knew it wasn't. The intruder was still howling like he was on fire – and, for all Ben knew, maybe he was.

Then, with just another moment, it went quiet. The floor stopped moving and all noise from below disappeared, even the indistinct mumbling and creaking. Cautiously, Ben bent back down and pressed his ear to the floor again.

"Tilus, let our guest down." It was the Countess' voice. Not only that, it was soft and calm, and Ben could barely hear it. Still, he did and underneath the words, there was something that shook him all the way to his stomach. The floor creaked again and Ben heard a crashing whump, like someone flopping down on a mattress, except hitting a vase or a table in the process.

"E-e-e-excellency..." All of the gruff was gone from the intruder's voice, leaving nothing but a pathetic simper. Ben could easily imagine the man being on his rump and sprawled like a crab, or maybe he was on all fours, cowering at the Countess' feet like an animal, but either way, Ben had no doubts that the man was no longer standing.

"Excellency, this guy was..." Tilus – at least, Ben assumed it was the man called Tilus, as he didn't recognize the thick, wheezy voice – started, but both the voices were cut off by something. What, Ben didn't know, because he didn't hear anything from the Countess. He didn't even hear a clothlike whipping or a click, tap, or clap.

Finally, Ben heard the Countess speak again, and she was so quiet that Ben could have mistaken it for the sound of a pin dropping.

"Haid, you are not injured, are you?" There was absolute silence as Ben assumed Haid was making some sort of gesture for her response, "Good." Then, there was the click of the Countess' shoes as she crossed the room. Ben wondered what she was wearing, if she had her shoes on, but there was no rustle of long, cumbersome clothes. It was the middle of the night, for crissake!

"Excellency... pl-please allow me to..." The shaking, mouselike intruder's voice squeaked, but he stopped half-way through. Again, there was that complete silence that was eerie in how thoroughly it filled the air. Ben didn't know what it was that kept silencing everyone in the room, but he also had the feeling that he really didn't want to see for himself, no matter how curious he was.

"I know perfectly well what you mean to do here, Sieur Carrousse. To be honest, I was expecting you fifteen minutes earlier, but I suppose the terrain must have been difficult for one who is accustomed to traveling by speeder." The Countess said after she took her time. It was as though she were enjoying the tension and control she had.

"But... but... oh, there is someone else. Another..." Carrousse's voice faded out completely as the Countess said absolutely nothing, yet again.

"Yes, I know. It shall not be the first time Dreja's done this, but he will be gone before the month is out. I see no usefulness your so-called betrayal could give to me."

Ben kept his ear pressed tightly to the floor. Who was this 'Dreja' guy, and what was the Countess talking about? She didn't even sound concerned. What had happened to the woman who fretted and lectured and over-all behaved in an almost psychotic manner to protect her sister?

"But... but... Excellency..."

"Sieur Carrousse, you are tedious." And Carrousse stopped stammering, altogether, "You have not changed in the slightest; still bumbling, still corrupt, still cowardly. No wonder you lost your last job."

So, this was somebody the Countess knew pretty well. Ben guessed that meant he didn't need to be too worried, but it seemed odd the way she was talking about it. Maybe she was talking more to herself, or maybe she was doing it for the benefit of Tilus and Haid; though why, Ben couldn't imagine.

"What? But... my... how did you...?" Ben wondered if he should pull up on the floor a little, if only to get some glimpse of what was going on. He was just as confused as the intruder seemed to be.

The silence fell again that somehow gave Ben the perfect image of what must have been going on in the room below. This time, he could imagine the Countess smiling that terrifying smile of hers.

"I do not blame you for not recognizing me. It has been many years." There was a slow, sharp click, then another. The Countess was moving again. How had she utterly subdued Carrousse without taking even a single step, so far? "But I don't forget old, neglectful jailers so easily."

Jailers? Why was the Countess talking about jailers, of all things? What did that have to do with anything? Carrousse was starting to stammer, again.

"Think. Think back, and think carefully." The Countess' voice was quiet, growing quieter with each syllable, but sharper and clearer.

It was deathly silent for a long, long moment; so quiet that Ben wondered if he'd fallen asleep and woken back up when the room was empty, or if the floor had dropped out and left the room bare, until he heard a croaking noise. It was Carrousse's voice, but it sounded like an inhuman combination of a growl and a cry of horror, and it was so low that it almost sounded gruesome.

"...Oh... Oh God! Oh God!"

What he was saying 'Oh God' over and over for, Ben couldn't understand. He heard the Countess sneer.

"Just as long as you understand..."

Ben frowned. What was THAT supposed to mean?

"Tilus, show our guest to the door." There was that sweet, unsuspecting Countess voice, again. Ben felt a shiver go down his back hearing her suddenly change attitudes, "And the fava beans and Chianti won't be necessary."

Ben remained still, listening for something else to happen in the room below him. All he could really hear was Carrousse still stammering, and maybe the heavy footfalls of Tilus waddling over towards the door. For a moment, Ben almost wondered if this is what Ouduar had been talking about. Maybe he should just go back to bed and ask about it in the morning.

The thought was scrapped when the floor under Ben's knees dropped unexpectedly open. His legs flopped completely out from under him, so suddenly that they dragged the rest of his body flipping end over end until he landed on an already broken couch. Leaning over him and face illuminated by a flickering flame was the Countess.

"We must not lurk in the ceiling, Sieur Ben. One might question your upbringing." She commented as Ben jolted upright and tried not to look as foolish as he felt.

"I heard someone screaming and..." The Countess straightened up, herself, and turned her back on Ben. She was, apparently, fully dressed as though she were going out for a business errand.

"Yes, Ouduar came to tell me about it. He was worried you might try to play hero." She set down her candle stick on a table and bent over to help Haid off the floor. Ben had forgotten she was in the room. He'd also forgotten she'd fallen out of that chair of hers. Seeing the Countess pick her up and put her back was almost disturbing – in any case he quickly got to his feet and looked elsewhere.

The room was obviously somebody's bedroom – there was a vanity along the wall with a long mirror that encompassed the entire room. There was a long, reclined chair covered in pillows and a blanket, and leaning against the wall, Ben saw that long, boxy instrument Haid played.

"Sieur Ben. If you would be so good as to come with me." The Countess called. Ben ducked his head and deliberately looked in the opposite direction as Haid's. It was embarrassing enough that he'd just crashed through the ceiling and into her bedroom.

Out in the hallway, Ben couldn't look at the Countess, even though she was staring straight down at him. He stared at the silver embroidered hem of her cloak, wishing he'd listened to Ouduar and just gone back to bed.

'Can't believe he was actually worried about me.' And, of course, had gone to tell the Countess.

"You really shouldn't be doing things like this – if something happened to you, your father would be very hurt." That was it. No shouting, no hissing, no nasty, insane lectures. Ben felt even worse than the few times the Countess had actually been unpleasant, and he somehow got the feeling she was doing that on purpose.

"Sorry." He mumbled. The next moment, he felt a hand on his head. He glanced up to see the Countess smiling at him. Actually, smiling. Ben wished he had some place to duck for cover, seeing it.

"Then, go back to bed. Tomorrow, we start the prep for the transplant."

Ben stood even straighter. He'd completely forgotten about it, but hearing the Countess mention it had jolted him clear out of the oblivion.

"Tomorrow?" He asked. The Countess nodded.

"And you'll need to be awake for me to get you ready. Otherwise, we could jeopardize the results. And that risks making you sick during the operation, or Jacci."

Ben felt his stomach drop to his feet. He didn't even remember seeing Jacci over the last few days, and, as a result, had somewhat lost perspective.

"Go on – tomorrow's going to be a very busy day." The Countess gave him a push on the shoulder and sent him off.

* * *

"What's the emergency?" Wedge asked as Jaina irritably poked at the ice in her drink with the fruity umbrella. A bar had been the best place to meet? What had she been thinking?

"Sorry to call you out like this, Wedge. It's... really just been something that's been bugging me." When Jaina saw the look Wedge was giving her, she knew that wasn't what he'd wanted to hear, "I'll start from the beginning. It seems like something serious to me, but I've got so little information about it that I can't even be sure."

Wedge didn't look impressed, but he stopped glaring long enough that he returned to his drink.

"Let's hear it, then." And Jaina started, with the Countess's arrival, through what she'd heard in Killik space, and up into the present. Wedge mostly seemed unconcerned, but actually reacted when Jaina told him about what she'd heard from her parent's conversation.

"They were talking about a kid dying? And a kid dying by being ejected out of a prison's airlock?" He asked. Jaina nodded, suddenly much more concerned as she saw Wedge's alarm, "That's... dark."

Jaina toyed with the ice as it melted. She hadn't thought about it that way – she'd been more concerned with how her parents, especially her father, had been so alarmed at the idea that this kid could have survived. Not that it gave her any further clue to what it meant.

"You don't have any ideas?" She asked. Wedge took a swig of his drink, then put the glass back down, heavily. That had to mean it was bad – Wedge wasn't a heavy drinker, so a long gulp like that had to be a sign of trouble.

"The Alliance didn't really take prisoners, kiddo. And the few we did, they were usually very elite spies and soldiers. And none of our prisoners were ever THAT young. You sure they were talking about one of OUR holds?"

"Positive. Mom said that she'd heard about it from a guard, himself." That was another thing that had bothered her – the fact that her mother had been worried enough to check up with the guard. But she didn't mention it – Wedge had probably figured that out.

"Damn." Wedge muttered, "First Tycho, now this."

Jaina felt the skin under her hair grow hotter.

"Well, excuse me for needing to do my research."

Wedge ignored her, one hand clasped over his mouth as he pondered the situation. Jaina kept her attention on her drink, starting to get irritated when Wedge finally started speaking again.

"You have any idea when this was?" This time, Jaina knew immediately.

"Thirty years ago. 5 years After Yavin. I even tried looking up what sorts of things were happening at that time. All I found were a bunch of minor skirmishes with all the trouble you guys went through before Isard gathered her forces."

"And it was the first time your dad actually considered proposing to your mom."

Jaina blinked.

"...Really?" Wedge snickered, though that might have been the look on her face.

"At first, but then they had one of those really big fights – not just Han picking a fight because he knew he could make it up to her, but one of those 'And you were really thinking about marriage?' kind of fights."

Jaina leaned back in her chair and stretched her neck. It had gotten stiff by leaning over the bar.

"Whatever. Anything else that I should know about?"

Wedge shifted his drink around to keep the ice from melting all in one place.

"Well, we did have a few successful battles... and we actually started liberating planets, instead of just picking off Imps and blowing up their super weapons."

Jaina stirred her drink with the mixing straw. The ice had melted without her even taking a drink. With a sigh, she shook her head. None of it seemed to quite fit. She just couldn't understand what any of this could be.

'Maybe I am imagining all of this being connected.' She wondered.

"Unless..." Wedge began, picking his glass up, again. Jaina turned her head to stare at him. The old commander of the Rogue Squadron was leaning back in his seat, rubbing his fingers over the dark stubble on his chin. If Jaina hadn't known better, she would have guessed he was contemplating something else, entirely, like a memory of someone he'd known well.

"...Unless what?" She asked. Wedge sat up, shaking his head as he drained his drink.

"I've got an idea, but I can't be sure." He mumbled. Jaina took the cue and picked up her drink. It was more water than flavor, now. The only real bite left was the slice of fruit left on the umbrella's stick.

Wedge thumped on the table, straightening with conviction.

"I might not be sure about this, but if I talk it over with the other Rogues, we can figure this out." He said, "Tell you what: There's a wake for Tycho later in the week on Coruscant – we'll all be there. After it's over, all of us can meet up and work out the details."

Jaina stared at Wedge for a moment, then shook her head to clear it. Maybe it was because she was tired or maybe she was starting to feel the effects of her drink.

"Wait. A wake for Tycho?" She asked.

"Your mom put it together... y'know, for Winter." Jaina stared steadfastly into her glass to avoid seeing Wedge's raised eyebrows. She'd completely ignored the fact that, with Tycho dead, it also meant Winter had lost her husband, "We just got the invites this morning."

Her mother had put together a party? A wake? That didn't sound like her mom. Jaina knew better – Jaina's mother knew better than to do frivolous, extravagant things like that. Even if it was for an old friend... and, thinking about it, Winter was smart and subtle enough to know better than want or ask for something like that. Why was this happening at all?

Jaina didn't like it – neither the prospect of a social gathering, nor of the fact that virtually everyone she knew was changing, right under her nose. Even more, she was certain it had to do with the CMC. She couldn't explain why – it was just her gut instinct.

And, more and more, she was willing to trust her gut instincts over logic.

"Hey." Wedge's voice jolted her into reality. "Don't tell me a party has the old Sticks getting cold feet."

Jaina couldn't muster up a smile. Not even to reassure Wedge.

"I have a very bad feeling about this."

* * *

She pulled her hair out of it's bun as she sauntered into the room. Cluttered shelves lined the walls, then ordered the floor. Each had their own theme, meticulously organized: First, the contents were sorted, then alphabetized, then the mass sizes in descending order.

"Oh, Brother. You and your obsessions." She sighed. Not that she could talk. She had a collection of her own, but at least it was one of those useful collections. All of Brother's trinkets were sitting on shelves, gathering dust.

With a flick of the switch, the generator started up. Her pet machine project – a devilish speeder – started to warm up, ready for tuning. She undid the snaps on her suit, slithering out and leaving the plasti-synth on the floor. Gornash would pick it up and return it to her closet, later. In the meantime, she needed to get...

The engine growled, like a hibernating monster stirring in the spring.

"I hear you, baby. Don't worry – momma's coming to change your oil." Messy.

Her tools in one hand, a pair of goggles in the other, she weaved her way between the racks of collective junk. The engine of her speeder changed from a growl to a roar. She paid it no mind – in fact, she took her time to tighten her belt before she crawled under the body. The moment she touched it, the whole machine stopped growling and rattling, and the engine slowed to a calm purr.

"Such a fussy babe. You know I'm busy, but you just can't help being a little attention whore, can you?"

She turned the knob over the oil tank. Thick, black, filthy oil came spewing out and ran over her face and into her hair. She giggled. It had been answer enough.

It was the single fixation that she shared with Brother – though she didn't really see how it was the same. Brother talked to everything he collected, like the things were alive. She didn't – just to her baby monster. After all, it could talk back to her.

Brother's children never talked back to him. They were all silent, still, useless, mindless...

Beautifully dead.

She unhinged the engine long enough to peer inside. There were always things to be made better. She'd seen the inside of the Falcon – some of those adjustments had been awe-inspiring, and all made by Human hands, not the automated screws and bolts on a factory assembly line.

By comparison, her little monster had a long way to grow, yet.

"Sister." She sat up and twisted her head enough to see Brother's feet moving around, outside her baby. He was undoubtedly watering his plants, on all the shelves that sucked up the window space. They drained the room of it's natural sunlight, and sapped the air of it's valuable carbons.

Not that she minded – she had no use for either. It was just damn irritating the way he treated everything like it was alive.

"Yes, Brother darling?"

"When you're finished with that, could you possibly drop our favorite uncle a line and let him know to stop what he's doing?"

She cracked open a spare piece of junk and started to piece it together inside her baby's engine. It would be more useful in there.

"He's already been paid for the job. It's just good, professional business for him to follow up." She answered, softly, "Besides, it's not like he's doing anything THAT wrong."

She heard a clunk on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the bottom of the watering can and her brother's shoes as he walked away.

"That was less of a 'would you' and more of a 'do it'."

His heels clicking on the floor, Brother stepped sharply out of the room. She remained under her monster baby, happily tuning away and more than happy to delay the inevitable. She didn't know where Brother got it – after everything the galaxy had done to him, he still felt he owed it something. It was almost sick. She knew better – she knew that this was just their penance.

Besides, their uncle had a job to do. And if he rid the galaxy of it's useless, excess baggage in the process... well, all the better for her sense of aesthetics.

Eventually, she had to crawl out from under the speeder, oil and grease all in a stain down her front, smeared on her hands, covering her face and hair like a mask. This was how she liked working on her baby, best. Nothing separated them, not when she was a part of it like this.

She heard tiny footsteps behind her. As she turned around, she saw a little feline clawing it's way up, onto the topside of her speeder.

"Brother must have left you in here, huh?" She muttered, using a single, solitary finger to scratch behind one of it's ears. The cat shook it's head and turned it's back on her. She smiled – it would be just like Brother to pick up strays and keep them. He took after his father, that way.

It just made her happier that she took after her own father, just as much.

"Luci!" She called, turning away and sauntering over to a shelf for her tools, "Would you like to take care of our unwanted guest?"

In an instant, right behind her, she heard a loud meowling, hissing, then an utter silence. When she turned back, the cat was laying on the floor, paws in the air, stiff as carbonite.

"Luci, you bad boy. I keep telling you not to play with your food." She had no answer. With a shrug, she kicked the cat to the side and strode out. She needed to be nice and clean if she was going to do this properly.

* * *

"I can't believe they're letting you out so easily." Mara grinned as one of the aides pushed the hoverchair out the doors. Luke had an expression that was half exasperated and half amused at needing to be pushed out, in spite of being perfectly able to walk on his own.

Han and Leia had left for their apartment to finish arrangements for the wake at the end of the week, as well as to do as much poking around as they were physically capable of doing. In honesty, Mara was glad that Luke was discharged – they'd received a transmission from Kam and Tionne that the Council had gone into a panic at the news that Luke was being poisoned.

Once out, they'd be able to do more constructive work, especially with Artoo at their disposal.

"The director said Master Skywalker was well enough to be discharged, safely." The aide replied, not really looking at either of them, "Besides, I'm sure the Jedi Temple would be a better place to recover, now that the diagnosis has been made and treatment is complete."

Mara wasn't fooled – she knew damn well that the director just didn't want Luke in her medcenter if someone had been trying to kill him. Not to mention that, if the killer made another attempt while Luke was in the medcenter, or if other patients started becoming targets, the medcenter would be responsible.

"I'm sure I'll be much more comfortable in a place I'm familiar with, too." Luke replied, polite and kind like Mara wished she couldn't be.

"We'll all feel a lot safer when you're better. It was a load off my mind when I heard the two of you were working with the Investigations to find this lunatic." The aide said, pressing a button to open the doors. Luke put his hands on the armrests of the hover chair and edged out of his seat with Mara and the aide supporting him under each arm. Mara didn't feel the least bit reassured by the comment – if anything, it made her wonder if she should start suspecting the same person in both the serial killings and Luke's attempted murder.

"It would be a helluva load more if Investigations was actually allowing them to work and not just making them waste their time because nobody trusts them." Luke almost slipped and sat back down. Perched on a bench just outside the medcenter doors, Medic Orewahime and her partner were sitting. It was as though they could have smelled Mara and Luke coming.

"What are you DOING?" Mara called. Orewahime's single visible eye blinked, then frowned, then she turned to Trike and back to Mara.

"Is this some kind of trick question?" She asked.

Off-hand, Mara wondered exactly how serious of trouble she'd get in for attacking a medic right outside a medcenter. A night in jail couldn't be that bad.

"The director of the medcenter has already discharged Master Skywalker, Medic Orewahime." The aide said, helping Luke regain his balance. Orewahime looked even more delighted than Mara would have thought.

"Yes – yes, she did." She agreed, "I, however, did not. So, Skywalker brat, you are still MY patient, if not this medcenter's. That's why we're coming with you."

Mara saw Trike's head snap around at the exact same moment as hers and Luke's.

"What?" Orewahime ignored Mara – she wasn't surprised – opting instead to mock her own partner.

"You don't HAVE to come along – you can just stay here with all the SICK people. Breathe the same air they cough their GERMS into. Sleep in a room that someone probably VOMITED in. Eat food off of plates that have only been washed ONCE..."

Trike's whole head retreated into his collar as his face went a remarkable shade of green.

"Mara." Luke muttered in a very low voice, "I do believe you're not the craziest woman in the room, right now." And Mara wasn't going to argue with that.

"See? We're coming with you until this whole mess is straightened out. Simple." Orewahime didn't notice their discussion, continuing to speak as though nothing had happened. Simple wasn't quite what Mara was thinking, but she didn't say anything about it. Luke had managed to wobble – under his own steam – over to the bench Orewahime was currently using as a platform to shout down Trike. Putting his face in his hands, Luke slumped onto it.

"Cighal has been having trouble with diagnosing a... specific problem, at the moment." He mentioned, quietly enough that it was guaranteed to make Orewahime stop shouting.

Mara pulled a face in Luke's direction. He simply looked back at her, but it was more than enough for Mara to understand. Even if they tried stopping her, she'd just break in and make herself comfortable, anyway. This would at least keep this obnoxious lady busy.

'You're getting better at being sneaky, farmboy.'

Orewahime stopped ranting long enough to look over her shoulder. From what Mara could tell, she was seriously considering what Luke had just said.

"So... you're gonna need someone with a diagnostics specialty?"

"And a lot more experience than any of our medical specialists." From the look on his face, Mara could tell Luke was already considering ways to apologize to Cighal for getting her into this.

Orewahime didn't seem to notice – she was too busy stroking her chin with a satisfied and plotting grin.

* * *

My sister: Did you seriously just use up two pages to establish that Orewahime's a Gregory House and Trike's an Adrian Monk, all over again?

Me: … I'm having a bad day.

* * *

"I don't see why breakfast is out of the question." Ben would have liked to grumble about his empty stomach, except he didn't trust himself to open his mouth without diving for something – whether it was edible or not. Thus, Ouduar was filling in the silence quite nicely for him. Ben was actually kind of glad the older boy – obnoxious and confusing as he was – was sitting in a chair in the corner, if only for moral support.

The Countess, to her credit, had at least made sure everyone else had eaten and gotten the room cleared of any smell of breakfast before Ben had woken up. Still, she gave Ouduar a shriveling glare as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Ben didn't really care.

"The digestive tract needs to be perfectly cleared for both the donor and the recipient. Otherwise, you run the risk of being poisoned during surgery." She explained. Ben kicked one foot as it dangled off the side of the table he was sitting on. The Countess gave him a Look, too, "In other words, Jacci didn't have breakfast this morning either. You're in no position to complain."

It made Ben and Ouduar both shut up. In fact, the way Ouduar started to stare at his shoes, Ben could have sworn that Ouduar felt even worse than Ben did. Knowing she had them in a fit state to keep talking, the Countess went on, explaining how the procedure would work as she fiddled with some strange, ominous looking tools. For the most part, Ben understood that he would be asleep through most of it, and wouldn't be able to eat any solid food for a day or so, afterwards. Beyond that, he really wasn't interested, especially when he saw a face appear in the door outside the room.

"WHAT THE–!" He pointed, prompting both the Countess and Ouduar to turn. The face disappeared from the window.

'Oh, God, this place really IS haunted! It finally happened!'

"Hiken, what are you doing hiding in the corridor like that? You know better." The door slid open enough for a boy with whispy, red hair to poke his face in.

"Uncle Tilus said you were making monsters from dead people's body parts."

The Countess put down a jar and needle she'd been handling to go over and ruffle Hiken's red hair. Ben just kept watching – something about Hiken's face seemed oddly familiar. The shape, the slant of his nose, the way his hair fell...

"You go tell Uncle Tilus to stop making up scary stories like that, or he's going to be spending the next week in the basement." The Countess almost sounded like she was scolding, except Hiken brightened considerably and went running off to do as he'd been told. The door slid shut and the Countess went back to what she'd been doing.

"Why couldn't you use HIM?" Ouduar piped up. The Countess acted as though she hadn't heard him.

"What're you talking about?" Ben asked, perfectly confused by Ouduar's question. In response, Ouduar folded his legs up so the soles of his feet touched and gestured at the door with his thumb.

"That kid. His blood type's just the same and he's about the same size as Jacci. He'd've been fine to use as a donor."

"Hiken doesn't understand what the surgery entails, nor the implications it can have." The Countess said, curtly. Ben wasn't even sure if she was talking to Ouduar or Ben or herself.

"So, tell him that it's all magic, or whatever. He'd swallow it in a second."

Ben wasn't entirely sure what happened next, but he saw Ouduar's chair jerk completely out from under him. Ouduar went toppling to the floor and out the door. It almost looked deliberate, until the door swung shut and locked after him.

The Countess didn't make any move as though she noticed, but her fist was clenched tightly around the jar.

"Um... Countess?" Ben muttered, cautiously. The Countess didn't react as though she'd heard Ben, except to pull his arm out to the side and ready the needle, "...What was that?"

"We'll talk about it when you wake up." She replied, sharply.

Ben opened his mouth to ask what she meant by that, but the needle hurt too much – a lot more than the little pinches that he always got for vaccinations. And, by the time it was gone, he was on his back, unable to think coherently.

His last conscious thought was 'That kid with the red hair LOOKS like...' before the drugs fully kicked in.

A/N: Aaaaand... yeah, I really have no excuse for this, do I? But... wow – this story has hit 10,000 hits.

...I really am speechless. Thank you, guys and... hopefully, after the holiday season, I'll spend more time with this brain baby of mine.

Speaking of brain babies: Like Star Wars? Like vampires? Like hot, steamy, man-on-man action (except the action might be an actual fight to the death as opposed to X-rated material not fit for small children's eyes)? Then, head on over to the newest leech in my pack of soul-sucking stories at 'In My Blood'. Found either on my profile, or in the Star Wars section of the site.


	27. Part III: Chapter 2

CMC: Schadenfruede

By Sapadu

A/N: …...

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am SO sorry.

I've been looking back over the fic and have come to the conclusion that I really need to do a rewrite for three reasons: 1) Fact checking, 2) consistency of tone and style, and 3) the fact that I really get sidetracked with little side plots that either go nowhere, or have no relevance. So, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do: I'm going to finish this, or die trying, let everyone give me feedback in terms of plot and characters. Then, I'll go back and revamp the thing so it's consistent.

Chapter 2:

Ben woke up to the sound of a pack of cards shuffling. He was stiff and sore, from the neck down, and everything felt cold. Except for – he discovered this as soon as he sat up – a little spot on his lower back. That was burning hot, and it itched. He wanted to scratch.

"I wouldn't do that, mate."

Ben jumped, just as his hand paused over the spot, ready to relieve the itch. Ouduar was on the floor, wearing a dark gray jumpsuit that covered his arms and legs in spite of the thermometer reading well above 26 degrees. He was flipping through a pack of flashcards, then flinging them across the floor. He must have been at it for some time – there was a whole mess going every which way from Ouduar's spot on the floor.

"Um... Ouduar..." Ben muttered, staring at the mess of cards. Ouduar looked up from the pack, his eyes owlish behind his spectacles.

"You scratch your stitches, they'll come out. Pop right open, and the scar'll split, and start bleeding all over the place, and the cut might start splitting even further up your back, and and that person'll have to give you new ones – need to give you a shot to keep you from squirming, then swab your back with the iodine, then stitch it all back up again..." His face split into a disturbingly bright grin, "It'd probably hurt like hell."

Ben blinked at Ouduar for several minutes, wondering if he should want someone else in the room if Ouduar actually grinned at the mention of someone's stitches coming out.

"Besides, if you need your stitches replaced, that person'll keep you from getting out of bed and visiting that brat."

Instantly, Ben shot out of bed. He ended up slipping on the cards Ouduar had scattered on the floor and landed firmly on his backside, before he even knew how he'd done it. Ouduar stayed in place, blinking peculiarly at him. It didn't last long – after a few minutes, the older boy gathered up his flashcards and helped Ben to his feet.

"Wait, do you even know what room Jacci's in?" Ben asked, when Ouduar pushed the door open and poked his head out into a hall that, Ben swore, could not possibly fit inside the House. Seriously, where did all these random rooms COME from? Ouduar didn't even answer, "You don't know where she is, do you?"

"Nope." Ouduar agreed, grinning again.

"Well... great." Ben muttered, but Ouduar didn't seem terribly concerned, even after admitting that he had no clue what he was doing.

"Might as well poke around. We might never see any of these rooms again." Ouduar quickly picked out a door that was barely Ben's height and pushed it open, ducking and dragging Ben after him into the lightless room. Ben tripped as Ouduar stepped over something on the floor and the door slid shut behind them.

"How can you see where you're stepping?" Ben complained, shuffling his feet deliberately to stop from catapulting over something else.

"...Uh..." Was Ouduar's intelligent reply, which Ben had come to understand meant the older boy really had no clue.

"Where's the lights, then? Can you at least tell me that?" Ben asked, as Ouduar let go of his hand and stepped off to the side. He was quiet for a moment before finally speaking.

"If you turn around and stretch your right hand to exactly shoulder level, the light switch will be next to your longest finger."

Ben pivoted, exactly as Ouduar had said, and found himself pressing on a light switch. Instantly, the room was illuminated by bright fluorescent lights in the ceiling, and Ben realized that the things he'd been tripping over were...

A model track of a hovertrain, looping back and forth on the floor. Ben blinked.

Actually, there were several different models of toy trains on the floor – Ben saw a model of a monorail, a beltway, and a long, winding tube that was either raised off the floor or suspended from the ceiling. Models of buildings and elaborate structures from various planets were spaced between them, and plastic and metal toy speeders and fighter vehicles were either hung from the ceiling or balanced on the buildings with toy people scattered about, as though someone had been reenacting a battle... with some creative liberties.

'I didn't know that the resistance used stuffed animals to invade Coruscant in the battle against the Yuzuhan Vong...' Ben noted, keeping the comment to himself as he noticed the line of various stuffed creatures stomping on plastic Vong figures.

Ouduar was taking in the scene, as well, and seemed to be taking it with a good amount of humor.

"This could be the room of any small boy." He observed, "But it just so happens to belong to a boy named Christopher Robin."

"Oh, so you know whose room this is?" Ben asked – he hadn't heard of the boy among the household, but he was starting to get the impression that he wouldn't know everyone within any amount of time. And, honestly, he was surprised to hear Ouduar call somebody's name.

"Nah – 'Sa line from a story."

"Oh." Never mind, then.

Ouduar didn't seem to notice Ben's curiosity, as he was poking through other objects in the room.

"So...?" Ben finally prompted, when Ouduar had continued to examine the childish trappings of the room, "...Aren't you going to say who this room really does belong to?"

Ouduar looked up from where he'd been picking over a toy X-Wing model.

"Can't. I don't know." Ouduar answered. Ben made the most disgusted face he could muster.

"You already said that you can't tell anything except the truth. Why can't you answer a question like that?" Ben argued.

"Someone has to know the real answer out there." Ouduar said, shrugging, "...Like, if you asked me how to spell a really long word that I didn't know, but someone, somewhere, knew how to spell it, I'd be able to answer the question honestly. If you asked me where a lost pair of keys were, I wouldn't know... because they're lost. Nobody would know."

Ben sat down and pulled a model of one of the trains around it's track.

"Well, somebody's gotta know whose room this is." He reasoned. Ouduar set the X-Wing down and moved over to poke at one of the toy buildings.

"...That person might know. That person usually knows just about everything that's going on in this House." Ben delicately set a toy Wookie on the train track and continued to pull the model on it's merry way.

"Why can't you say so for sure?"

"This whole..." Ouduar paused, considered, then shrugged as he continued, "Thing... when I can only tell the truth... it doesn't work on that person."

Ben glanced up from where he'd been forcing the Wookie to stomp on the train. Ouduar looked completely disinterested in the subject at hand – he'd actually moved over to a shelf full of books and had picked out one on anatomy and physiology and was skimming through what looked like some colorful illustrations of surgery. This, he was willing to believe without Ouduar explaining – after all, his empathy and his parent's Jedi powers didn't work on the Countess, either.

Ouduar discarded the book and turned to another one, flipped through the pages, then discarded it and pulled a third book out to repeat the cycle.

"What are you reading, anyway?" Ben asked. He was actually kind of tempted to keep playing with the toys while Ouduar worked out whose room this was, but he was still too curious.

In response, Ouduar shrugged.

"Not sure – the first two had pictures, but this is just text." Ben looked completely poleaxed to this answer, "Still kinda shaky in my reading classes. And them dipthong characters are impossible."

Ben continued to blink. Ouduar was giving him a look that, had Ben not been so at a loss for words with the older boy, would have reminded Ben of someone else. Of all the...

"You SERIOUSLY can't read?" Ouduar gave him a sheepish smile that made Ben want to throw something hard and heavy at his head. The only reason he stopped himself was because he remembered in time that Ouduar really didn't mind getting hurt, so it probably wouldn't have any effect, "Never mind – gimme that book."

With a careless shrug, Ouduar tossed the book right into Ben's outstretched hands. When he turned it around, Ben had to blink a few times to realize he wasn't reading a book at all. It was a log.

"What does it say?" Ouduar queried, flopping down and somehow still missing all the toys on the floor.

Ben frowned and scanned another few pages for a starting point. He saw several lines that were separated from the entries under the heading 'Observations about the Real World' with comments ranging from 'Being dirty can be fun, but it makes you itch after a while' to 'If you must burn your tongue, burning it by eating melting chocolate is totally worth it'. There was a whole page dedicated to a list of 'If/Then' responses. But the majority of pages were titled things like 'Observations about the Base' or 'What NOT to do when meeting new people'. All of it was written in a very sketchy, clumsy handwriting that Ben could have sworn he'd seen somewhere else.

"I think it's a journal." He finally said. Ouduar heaved himself onto all fours and craned his neck to see, even though he'd admitted to not being able to read, "But whoever wrote this had to be living under a rock somewhere – listen to this one: When meeting someone, look them in the eye and smile, but if you look at them too long, they start to get offended. Captain Solo says it creeps people out. One to two seconds is optimal for polite introductions." Ben frowned and pondered over 'Captain Solo' but didn't focus in favor of the more obvious point.

"Well... yeah, that is kind of weird, isn't it?" Ouduar didn't seem to be agreeing with Ben so much as the writer of the journal. Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to the log book.

"And this one: If Major Janson tells you to 'Suck it up', you're either complaining too much or complaining about something that shouldn't be complained about. Chances are, everyone else will be annoyed with you, as well. I mean... who DOESN'T know about this stuff?"

"I didn't." Ben put down the book and gave Ouduar his best 'You've got to be kidding me' look. Unremorseful, Ouduar just shrugged, "I didn't – and a lot of it still escapes me."

'And whatever you have learned, you obviously don't care about.' Ben thought, turning back to the book. There were more entries making observations about Human behavior and social norms that, to Ben's mind, were just common sense. On the next few pages, Ben found three separate entries about...

Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting THESE...

'Still unsure if Commander Skywalker trumps Major Janson's advice about 'Growing some balls'. Commander Skywalker's arguments: Everyone learns at different paces and in different ways, sometimes, it's necessary to be cautious, and showing compassion and empathy for others allows us to make decisions that help everyone involved. Major Janson's arguments: Crying shows weakness and weakness lets any enemies you may have know how to hurt you, wars would never be won if all the soldiers just ran away, screaming, and the Man Code (Still unsure what that entails. Ask Captain Solo for details)'

Ben hadn't thought he'd be reading about someone talking about his father. It seemed entirely too surreal. Further down the page made Ben feel even more unsettled.

'Progress in Jedi training remains slow. Possible causes: Lack of effort on my part. Lack of understanding on my part. Lack of time and concentration. Lack of calm atmosphere to meditate. Note: Regain contact with Commander Skywalker as soon as possible after evacuation is complete.'

Not only someone who had known his father, but an old apprentice. Ben felt queasy, just holding this log. It was made worse by the utter matter-of-fact way the person had written it.

The whole next page was devoted to a chart under the title 'List of things I will attempt to not be useless at'. On the right side of the page was a chore or task, and the accompanying left had a report on the results. An overwhelming majority simply had 'Failed' written next to them, and the few that didn't had an analysis of the results, so the writer had obviously not considered them successes.

Ben's eyes landed on the bottom of the page. In all capitalized letters, the writer had noted, 'CONCLUSION: STILL NEEDS IMPROVEMENT. FURTHER TRAINING NEEDED.'

"I think I know this person." Ben muttered. Ouduar stopped what he was doing – that is, twisting the rotatable arms and legs of the plastic figures out of their sockets – to crane his neck and gaze up at Ben.

"Makes you say that?" He asked, fingers still idly spinning the now limbless toy in his hands. Ben just shrugged.

"Just a feeling." His eyes were still scanning through the pages. Some were more lists of things that five-year-olds should have known about talking to people, working with people, the whole bit. Some were entries about daily tasks that either had or had not been completed. But more still were little snippets about 'Commander Skywalker says this' and 'Commander Skywalker says that' and 'Why can I never be as good as Commander Skywalker'. Whoever this person had been, they had both too much time on their hands, and a lot of it probably spent with Ben's father.

It was... well, kind of disturbing.

Ben didn't get to read the next page – at that precise moment, the lights went out in the room. Ben dropped the journal and immediately started groping around to tell where anything was so he didn't step on it. He ended up finding a clump of hair, firmly attached to a skull.

"Ow. Easy, mate." Ouduar's voice came clearly through the darkness. Ben released the hair, incredibly grateful that Ouduar couldn't see the look on his face, "Don't worry – there'll be light in this room in a second."

Ben was tempted to count it, except that the door to the room opened before Ben could finish drawing his breath. Both of them spun to face the door, the Countess smiling down at both of them in that way that made Ben want to duck.

"Boys..." She started. And that was it – Ben immediately started scrambling for the doorway. From the rustling he heard behind him, Ben guessed that Ouduar was also hurrying to the door. Neither of them looked up from the floor. The Countess didn't try to make them look up.

"...I take it you didn't want to see Jacci, then?" She finally asked. Ben didn't answer that – he already felt ashamed at getting caught out of bed when that was exactly what they'd been sneaking around for.

"Well..." Ouduar started. With a single glance from the Countess, though, he didn't get beyond that single word. It was back on Ben to answer the question.

"...We WERE going to look for her." Ben mumbled, more to the floor than to the Countess, before glancing up and asking, hopefully, "...Is she okay and everything?"

The Countess raised an eyebrow, like she was considering not answering Ben's question just to spite him. And, to be frank, he really thought she might skirt the issue. She'd done it before. Not to mention with the way that the Countess was stretching out the silence, Ben was wondering if perhaps she was seriously considering it.

Then, she sighed.

"The operation was successful. Jacci actually just woke up from the anesthesia... but she'll have to stay under medical care for a while, until the stitches heal." The Countess paused and gave Ben a glance over, "And you won't be able to have solid food for another two days or so, for the same reason." Ben's stomach took advantage of the silence to remind him that he was hungry. The Countess then proceeded to list of a half-dozen other things Ben couldn't do until he was fully healed, and that Jacci would have to stay in bed for until she was better. Most, Ben didn't listen to – he was just still amazed that it was all over so quickly.

"Is that clear?" The Countess asked, finally. Ben nodded automatically, and immediately regretted it when the Countess gave him a scowl that obviously meant she knew he hadn't been paying attention, "Ben..."

Oh great. Here came the lecture. And this time, Ben knew he'd listen – the Countess had a... way with words, that her lectures always sank in.

After a pause, the Countess swooped over and put her arms around Ben's shoulders. For a moment, he just stood there and blinked. This, he had not been expecting.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Ben continued to blink, mostly finding himself staring at the Countess' hair. He wasn't even sure if he'd heard her correctly. It was so... not like the Countess. Then again, she was also hugging him like she intended to crack some of his ribs, and that wasn't like the Countess, either so...

"Countess..." Ben found his voice muffled, but it was enough that she let go of him. When the Countess stood straight again, her face was completely devoid of any expression. Ben was at such a loss for what to think that his best idea was to just stare at the Countess.

"She's in the room right above us. Follow the corridor straight ahead, and you'll find a set of stairs that will lead you right outside her door." She finally relented.

Ben found himself rooted to the spot, unable to really process except to blink with his jaw hanging open.

"Just like that?" He finally managed. The Countess' usual smirk reappeared – God, Ben had never thought he'd actually be happy to see that creepy smile, but he was – as she picked up the log book Ben had dropped and whapped him over the head with it.

"Get, before I change my mind." She scolded, shooing Ben off after Ouduar. The older boy was already climbing through a hole in the wall with a set of stairs hidden inside it, leading up through the walls like a secret passage.

'Stupid jerk – he knew which stairs to take the whole time.' Ben thought, sourly. He didn't notice the Countess looking back down at the log book before she reopened the door to the room they'd left.

* * *

Jacci was wide awake and apparently doing just fine. When Ben popped through the door and dragged Ouduar in after him, she was replacing the screws to what looked like a datapad's hard drive. Given that there were a few different manuals spread out on her sheets and miscellaneous pieces of hardware mixed with them, Ben was at a loss for what she could have been doing to occupy her time.

"Jacci!" The white-haired girl grinned right back at Ben, folding up her tinkering and setting it aside as Ben clambered up onto the mattress and Ouduar followed suit, "When'd you wake up?"

Jacci's fingers quickly started tracing in the air.

'A few hours ago. But it hurt so much that I almost went back to sleep again after Neh-Nii-Kah gave me the medicine.' She replied. Then, she cast Ouduar a look before frowning at Ben, 'Is that why you've got Uncle Ouduar with you?'

Ben blinked, glanced at Ouduar – whom had pulled out his flashcards and was thumbing through them again – then back to Jacci, wondering what that had to do with Jacci waking up and needing painkillers.

'Nah. It's nothing.'

Ben shrugged back and pulled the disassembled datapad over to inspect. Jacci quickly and happily started to spell into his hand what she'd been doing – apparently, she'd been trying to turn a normal datapad into a magnet. When Ben asked why, Jacci just shrugged with a smile on her face that clearly communicated 'Because it's cool.'

Beyond that, the three of them spent a majority of the next few hours just sitting in companionable silence. Ouduar kept going through his flashcards until Ben could have sworn he'd memorized them, and Jacci returned to her tinkering. Ben finally got fed up with the quiet enough that he turned to Ouduar and poked him in the arm.

"What are you LOOKING at, anyway?" Ouduar's response was to show Ben one of the cards. On it was a particularly nasty picture of an animal's corpse.

Ben didn't ask to see any more of the cards, but Ouduar willingly changed the topic, anyway.

"You'd think people would know better." Ouduar started to set the cards down and Ben's eyes were inevitably drawn to them – almost all of them were utterly disturbing, either having some creature injured or sick or in an otherwise miserable condition, "More than half the sentient beings in this galaxy are closer to animals in appearance than Humans. Why is anything not Human considered undesirable?"

Ben picked up one of the flashcards – this one with some kind of domesticated feline that was curled up in a dirty box and missing patches of fur – and focused on the image in favor of looking Ouduar in the face. Jacci had stopped playing with the screws on her datapad and was looking through some of the flashcards.

'Maybe it's the same reason why anything girly is supposed to be so bad. Like, when you see a boy playing with girl's toys, adults always tell him to stop.' She offered. Ben shifted, uncomfortably, as he remembered the plenty of examples he could think of Uncle Han telling him to 'Stop being such a sissy.' Ouduar just continued to shrug.

"Boy, girl, they're all just Human." It sounded perfectly inane to Ben's ears, so he was just as surprised as Ouduar when Jacci drew her fist back and knocked Ouduar clear off the mattress. His spectacles went flying and Ben even saw a trail of blood leaking from Ouduar's lips when he picked himself off the floor.

Completely unsure if he should go over and help Ouduar up, or if he should stay on the mattress and rationalize Jacci's behavior, Ben stayed in place. Jacci seemed satisfied that she'd gotten in her statement, so she remained on the mattress and irritably brushed the flashcards off the sheet. Ben glanced over and saw, to his utter bafflement, that Ouduar was sitting up, perfectly still, and not even angry that he was bleeding. In fact, when Ouduar took his hand away from his bleeding lip, Ben could have sworn he saw a smile. Or maybe it was grimace.

The door slid open, yet again, in time for the Countess to poke her head in. Almost immediately, Ben scrambled off the mattress and started pulling Ouduar to his feet. Before anyone could manage a word, the Countess beckoned Ouduar out of the room. Glancing back to see that Jacci was determinedly looking anywhere but the doorway, Ben watched as the Countess reset Ouduar's jaw – apparently, Jacci was much stronger than she looked, because she had very cleanly dislocated Ouduar's jaw, entirely.

With a severe warning to not mess with the bandages, the Countess left Ouduar sitting in a chair back inside Jacci's room, far away from her sister. Nobody spoke or moved – Jacci seemed more than content to pretend that both boys weren't in the room as she returned to fiddling with the datapad. Ouduar started replacing the screws in his spectacles, and Ben was left, sitting in the middle of the floor and wondering if he was really welcome, at all.

'So, this must happen a lot, if the Countess is just ready to fix him up at a moment's notice.' Ben thought, finally giving Ouduar nudge...

"_You're a good boy, Ouduar. You're my favorite little boy..." Ben found himself watching a woman – if she was even a real person, because she didn't have a face, just a head covered in braided hair. And there was Ouduar, letting his woman pat his head, easily many years younger._

_For a moment, Ben didn't even recognize him – his hair was much shorter, his face hadn't lengthened out, and the spectacles weren't there. Not to mention that Ouduar wasn't even dressed properly – he was frayed and worn, and looked like he'd pulled the tunic out of a waste bin, somewhere. But the eyes were the exact same shape and shade of blue, and there was no mistaking the nose. _

"_Mom..." The woman's arms went around Ouduar's neck. Technically a hug, but from the look on the younger Ouduar's face, Ben wondered if Ouduar wasn't terrified of his mother for some reason._

_There was a shift. Ben saw an empty street, like one he'd find in any city. Lights were flickering from inside the buildings, and everything was eerily silent. The only thing Ben could hear was the rattle of something in a trash bin alongside one of the buildings. When the lid opened, Ben saw Ouduar slide out – older than the memory from a second before, but still skinny and awkward. He had a grease stained bag in his hands, and one of his eyes was half-lidded and swollen._

_So... Ben got it – Ouduar used to live on the streets, probably starving, and went hunting in the trash for food. It sure seemed like it sucked, but it must have been everyday to him. What made this memory stand out so much?_

_Another creature came prowling down the street – an animal of some sort, but it was so thoroughly covered in filthy hair that Ben couldn't tell if it was a wild animal or if it was an abandoned pet. Ouduar ignored the creature as he tore the bag open and pulled out a skeleton of some kind of bird that still had chunks of meat left on it. Almost immediately, the other animal charged at Ouduar, clawing and biting until it had the bones in it's mouth and went scampering off._

_Ben stood and watched Ouduar stare, calmly, at the bite marks on his arms and fingers. Slowly, he licked the blood seeping from the largest of the wounds._

_There was another memory of Ouduar having to fight off two other boys twice his size for another piece of food that had been retrieved from the trash, and one of Ouduar watching a person bash in an animal's head and then cooking the meat, and several other memories of a similar nature. Even considering that Ben had seen into Jacci's memories, before, they'd been mostly tame. Ouduar's memories almost all consisted of blood and gore and filth._

_It was enough to make Ben feel like he would be sick, then not sleep for a week._

"_Ben! Oi, Ben!"_

Ben blinked and found himself staring straight at Ouduar's face. The spectacles were back in place, even as they slid down his nose so he could frown at Ben. It wasn't an overly concerned frown – more of a confused, 'what are you doing' look – but it was enough to make Ben wondering what he'd been doing.

"You alright, little mate? You just spaced for a second." Ouduar asked. Jacci looked up from what she was doing – apparently, it hadn't been too bad, if neither of them was freaking out.

"So I spaced. Big deal." Ben mumbled, almost sullenly. Rather than being upset, he was already thinking about what he'd just seen, and it was the spectacles that made Ben think, more than anything else. It had been so surreal to see Ouduar without them, and for the possibility to occur to Ben that Ouduar might not have been the same when he'd been Ben's age than he was now.

It also made Ben feel spectacularly foolish for not having thought of that, before.

Ouduar turned back from Ben, digging out a sheet of crumpled flimisplast, a bottle of ink and proceeding to make a mess with it, flinging drops on the floor and on his clothes. Ben watched, quietly, wondering the whole time if Ouduar really wore those long sleeves because he honestly thought it was cold.

* * *

_Ouduar had never seen anyone like this person in the city's streets. Nobody on the moon was like this person, so completely in black and so unconcerned with how they stood out. Compared to the bright sunlight and the pale rock walls, this person almost seemed like a gouged out wound. Ouduar also couldn't really tell what they were doing, or even what kind of person they were – man, woman, Human, non-Human, smiling, frowning... anything._

_All Ouduar knew was that the stranger was bent over and peering into Ouduar's face. It was so blurred and disjointed, that was all he could see, really. But, honestly, Ouduar didn't care, given that the sheer amount of pain coming from his eyeballs was effectively distracting. It had been like that for a few days, ever since he'd woken up one morning to find that he couldn't see nearly as well as he used to, and it had been accompanied by this searing burn from the front of his eyes._

"_Have you been having any pain in your eyes, lately?" The person asked. Even the voice, crisp and clear as it was, didn't tell Ouduar what kind of person it was. Not that he cared._

"_Why do you care?" He shrugged. The person shifted, before Ouduar felt something sharp and shocking poke him in the cheek._

"_Are you stupid, boy?" The person scolded. The next blurry movement introduced a new splotch of color into Ouduar's vision, while he felt two fingers pulling back on his eyelids. Something prickled around his eye, like he had to scratch an itch. Then, it was over, and his eyes watered up, burning and irritated. Ouduar's hands immediately went up to rub them._

"_If something hurts, you get it FIXED. You'll be lucky if you can see after this." The person scolded, before Ouduar felt two enormous hands lifting him off the ground. He wasn't even able to open his eyes enough to see how far he was off the ground._

"_The medical room, Milord?" A new voice – whomever owned the second pair of hands, Ouduar was willing to bet – spoke up. The person replied, indifferently._

"_Thank you, Gornash. I'll be back as soon as I've found something." Ouduar didn't hear much more – he just felt the bounce as the man carrying him walked. There was the soft, earthen crunch as they walked over the ground, then a clicking, metallic tapping as the air suddenly turned cooler and Ouduar assumed they'd entered a building of some sort. Ouduar wasn't even sure what it was that he was supposed to do or think – until he found himself being set down. Again, there was something poking at his eye, then a pair of fingers forcing him to blink a few times. When Ouduar opened his eyes, the blurring and lack of distinction between close and far had decreased._

_More alarming was that Ouduar no longer felt any pain in his eye. It was like, even though he could see, someone had taken his eyeball out of it's socket. To be honest, it frightened him._

_This time, when Ouduar saw a shape that was a taller and much leaner man turning back to swab at his eye, again, Ouduar kicked and pushed back. He could feel his hands and feet connecting with something large and solid, down to the grunts as he kicked. An enormous, long-fingered hand wrapped around his arm – it easily had to be twice as large as one of his hands – and pinned it to the table. There, it stayed, as another hand strapped his arm down._

"_Damn it, I don't have time for this." Growled the figure that was wrestling him still._

_Ouduar's response was to spit. He wasn't even sure that he'd hit anything, but it had been all he'd been able to manage while he was being tied down._

"_Can't even deal with a little punk on your own, Copy-Cat Eyes?" A new voice sneered. Ouduar craned his neck and tried to bite at whoever was holding him down._

"_Why don't you do something useful – sit on him, or something?" The man with the large hands demanded._

"_Boys, boys." The voice of the person was back, "Let's not fight in front of the guest. And Gornash, do remember that I don't want anyone under my roof to come to any harm." The pressure on Ouduar's arms let up, but his wrists remained firmly strapped to the surface of... whatever he was on. It felt too smooth and consistent to be the floor._

"_Oh, he's our guest now, is he?" Demanded one of the two men's voices. The person merely chuckled, and then Ouduar saw a blurry vision of someone – someone with a starkly pale face and something dark to contrast over it – hovering over him._

"_Gornash, if you could keep his head still, just in case. And Tilus, keep his feet from dislodging." Ouduar would have been annoyed with this person talking about him as though he weren't aware of their presence, but he was too curious to interrupt and too invested in trying to figure a way out. He was completely distracted from this by an entirely new sensation – a burning pain as something poked straight into his eye._

_The sting was unbelievable, like something hot had pushed against a single point in his eyeball, and the little poke had made something completely swollen and overfilled explode. Ouduar imagined his eye popping, that's how horrible it felt._

_Ouduar's tense back relaxed. He stopped trying to kick and get away. Somehow, he felt comfortable with it._

_The person stopped, withdrawing whatever had been poking at Ouduar's eyeball, and he felt something over his face. The sting continued. Ouduar didn't comment on it._

"_Don't scratch those bandages unless you want to go blind." The person's voice instructed. Ouduar kept his hands at his sides. The bandages itched, and a whole area of his face was starting to sting, aside from just his eyes, but it was a welcome, almost pleasant discomfort._

_It also occurred to him that, if the person was talking to him, there was no reason he couldn't talk back._

"_What did you DO to me?" He demanded. The person seemed incredibly disinterested as they answered._

"_You had second-degree ulceration of both your corneas. From what I could tell, it was due to an infection, which is easily handled with the proper medicine. For a boy living on the streets, stealing food from garbages, and living in a box, however, it does much worse things. The prickling you felt – that was an injection of a combination of antibiotics and bacta. When I take those bandages off for you, you should have most of your vision back."_

_Ouduar listened with an intensity that he was sure the person didn't match. The other two voices – Gornash and Tilus, if that was what they were called – had gone suspiciously silent._

"_Antibiotics." He repeated, slowly, "In other words... chemicals that kill off bacteria?"_

_Apparently, the person heard every iota of disdain in his voice as he said that._

"_Those same bacteria would have killed you." They said. Ouduar said nothing to that, wondering exactly how this person thought that would mean anything to him. Abruptly, he felt two fingers grab his chin and turn his head, "Oh..."_

_Ouduar jerked his chin out of the person's hand. Instead, he heard something rather akin to a nasty chuckle._

"_I was wondering why you wouldn't have gone to see a doctor. Especially given that the building you and your mother live right outside of is a clinic that willingly provides free services – and even if that clinic DID require monetary compensation, I doubt they would have turned you or your mother away, given who she was..."_

_The person sounded entirely too pleased with themselves. Ouduar bared his teeth in what he assumed was the person's direction._

"_Shut up!"_

_Again, the person was eerily silent, as though Ouduar had said something amusing. Then..._

"_Well, I suppose we'll just have to make due." There was a rustling and clicking noise of metallic boxes and the next thing Ouduar knew, the person had something pressed against his elbow, "Either you let me treat you – probably including killing off a few hundred thousand bacteria and viruses inhabiting your cells, with products that were most likely developed through experimenting on other animals kept locked up in cages – or I keep you in this room as you slowly rot away. And then what will your MOTHER do?"_

_Ouduar pondered. He still couldn't see, through the bandages over his eyes. And, oh, how he wished he could, if only to glare at this person._

"_...Mom?" He finally repeated._

"_Yes. I'm willing to give both of you room and board in the Household... but if you're going to be so ungracious as to refuse my hospitality, I'd be rather loathe to house the woman who raised you that way."_

_That made Ouduar cringe. The blunt, cold piece of metal dropped away from Ouduar's elbow. Almost immediately, each of his muscles tensed with anxiety. The sensation was so wrong, so inherently uncomfortable that it was supposed to hurt, but didn't, and it made every nerve in his body cry for it._

_He could hear the clicking of the person's shoes on the floor, growing fainter and the sound of a door creaking._

"_Treat me." He called. The clicking stopped. Then, a squeak echoed across the floor._

"_I knew you'd see it my way." The person said, before Ouduar felt the injector press to his arm, again. This time, the sting that came with an injection came right after, instead of being denied. It made the hairs on his arms and legs relax, when they'd been standing straight on end._

"_I hate you all." Ouduar managed to hiss, the moment the injector was removed. The person didn't respond, so Ouduar continued to snarl, "You're all the same – it doesn't matter who you have to step on, so long as everything goes the way you want it to."_

_The person continued with whatever they were doing as Ouduar kept cursing at them. Finally, Ouduar heard the snap of rubber gloves being peeled away from skin._

"_Whom, exactly, are you addressing right now?"_

_Ouduar didn't take the time to answer._

"_And you just think that you'll always get your way, just because you're so special..."_

"_Silly boy – you just described every being in the galaxy. Just pick a day of the week, and I'm sure you'll find an example of that paradigm." The person paused, and Ouduar could have sworn he'd felt their eyes fixated on him – something about his skin burned from the focus, "And it's not just animals that suffer for it, like you're thinking of."_

_So was this person some kind of Equal Rights nut? Ouduar had heard enough of them – and it made him sick. He openly sneered right back._

"_Non-Humans are just as bad – some of them are even worse." And the person continued to speak over Ouduar, as though he weren't there._

"_I'm not speaking of other sentient beings – they've had their share, true, but they're at least regarded as being creatures in their own right. Each has it's own movement for rights and equality with Humans. But there are still more beings who have suffered at the hands of Humans, simply because they are considered lesser portions of existence."_

_Not much that Ouduar could say to that. He couldn't even think what the person was really talking about._

"_Why do you care about how much non-Humans suffer or what Humans do to them, anyway? You're a Human – you don't have to live with it." The person continued._

_And Ouduar had nothing to say of that. In fact, he couldn't even think of anything._

"_Ohh..." The person sounded all too pleased with whatever they were realizing, "I'd thought as much; a boy your age normally doesn't have any real grasp of a world outside his own... unless..."_

"_Shut up." Ouduar growled, sick of hearing this person talk. To the person's credit, he did stop, or at least pause for several minutes. When he did start speaking again, it was as Ouduar felt the restraints on his wrists loosening._

"_Do you really desire it?" Ouduar didn't answer, if only because he didn't understand what 'it' was, "A galaxy without oppression? Without cruelty? Where there is no such thing as inferiors, where any being is equal to the next?"_

_Ouduar didn't answer – the person's voice was hovering especially close to his ear, and he felt something tugging at his hair._

"_What's your name, child?" Now that his hand was free, Ouduar realized that the bandage over his eyes really itched. He almost wanted to scratch, except it actually hurt if he left it without scratching long enough._

_He could live with that._

"_Ouduar."_

_The person was starting to pull on his hair, now. With something that crackled with static at each tug._

"_Well then, Ouduar..." The person said, softly, "If you're going to be part of my Household, there are a few rules I expect you to follow."_

_Ouduar shrugged as he sat up. The person's response was to grab him by the wrist._

"_One; No more of THIS, if you please." He could feel a finger pulling down his sleeve and the person's fingernail tracing an old scar. Even though his eyes were still covered, Ouduar looked away._

"_...Dunno what you mean." He mumbled, "I'm just clumsy, I guess."_

_The person said nothing, but Ouduar somehow knew that they didn't believe him._

* * *

"Where are you two headed?" The door slid open without even a knock. Luke hurriedly pulled his shirt on all the way, while Mara, still completely undressed, boldly marched over to Orewahime and looked her directly in the eye.

"If you watched the holocasts, you'd know that Tycho Celchu died recently. He was our friend and we're going to a wake in his honor, and if you have any problem with that..." Mara let it hang.

'Only Mara would threaten someone without a hint of shame, completely naked.' Luke pondered, doing his best to keep his back turned. A week ago, Ben had contacted them from the House to tell them the news about the operation's success, and that in a week, he'd be coming home. The same day, they received a reminder from Han and Leia that the wake for Tycho would be the same day they got Ben back from the CMC's house.

"I never said I had a problem with it." Orewahime argued back, sounding for all the world as though Mara had simply offered an impromptu game of chess.

"Then why are you bothering us?"

"Because I'm BORED! Bored, bored, bored, bored, BORED – with a big, capital, sparkly, silver Besh!"

Luke had finished dressing in something appropriately formal and black, and wavered between trying to persuade Orewahime to at least come fully into the room so they could close the door, or convincing Mara to get dressed while she argued.

"That's not OUR responsibility." Mara snapped.

"So?" Orewahime asked, obliquely. Luke found himself incredibly glad that he couldn't see the exact look on his wife's face, before Orewahime unscrupulously continued, "And where's this place going to be, anyhow?"

This time, Luke knew that Mara was giving Orewahime the best glare she could manage.

"In Hell."

"Right-o... so, who all's gonna be there?"

"Why do you need to know?" Mara demanded, impatiently. Luke noticed that Mara had been getting much quicker to temper, lately. Not a very good thing.

"Exposition – the audience is totally lost." Even at this point, Luke had to turn and give Orewahime his most incredulous stare. He didn't need to see Mara's face to know she was doing the same.

"...WHAT audience?" She asked, in a very 'There had better not BE an audience to this little scene' voice. Orewahime managed to give Mara an incredibly patronizing stare.

"That's called a 'joke', girlie-girl. You need to get a sense of humor." Which was entirely unfair, as Luke knew better than anyone that Mara had a wit that could pierce starship armor. And, from the pregnant pause, Luke was going to guess that Orewahime was going to realize this fact very soon, herself.

"Well, I'll be sure to pick one up from the pound on my way home – I'll get a matching one for you! We can carry them around in our purses when we go shopping. We could almost be TWINS!" Mara's voice reached that squeaky, mockingly sweet tone it reached when she was being incredibly sarcastic. And, of course, Orewahime's expression soured.

"...You sound like me." She noted, "...I might have to destroy you..."

"Um... Mara..." Luke began, noting what time it was. It was apparently enough to pull Mara away from the argument and to the more serious business of getting some clothes on.

"I'd like to see her try." Mara muttered between her teeth. Luke kept his mouth shut, only looking back over his shoulder to see that Orewahime was no longer in the doorway. At the very least, Luke was relieved that Mara wasn't snapping at him, but there was something about how long it took her to just get into her dress that made Luke wonder if something else wasn't bothering her. Mara even fumbled with the straps as she fastened an extra blaster to her leg.

Then again, there were few moments these days that Mara wasn't thinking, or upset, or otherwise bothered by something else than what Luke could see. What made him especially cautious around his wife, though, was that she hadn't deigned to tell him what any of those things were.

Or was he just imagining things? Was Mara still just recovering from the stress of dealing with him being poisoned, or just having a rough couple of weeks, or something completely normal?

"Let's go, farmboy – the sooner we get there, the sooner we can get Ben back here." Mara finally straightened up, sauntering for the door like she'd completely meant to take so long. Luke's eyes rested on the access card for the speeder doors, which Mara had left on the table.

Briefly, he considered asking if Mara had forgotten it, or was just graciously letting him drive for the night. Then, he decided it would be an uncomfortable enough evening without drawing attention to the fact that Mara wasn't quite her usual self.

* * *

"Say, Trike?"

"No."

"If they're going to that wake for Celchu..."

"Kenda. No."

"That means the Missus'll be there."

"Kenda..."

"And if you could see her, you'd know if she's the guy or not."

"..."

Trike sighed.

* * *

"It's been a while since I've ridden in a passenger's seat." Jaina commented as she slid into the seat next to Jacen. Her mother leaned over the seat before them both and shot Jaina and her brother an impish grin.

"And even longer since you both sat in the passenger's seats behind your parents." She commented. From the driver's seat, Jaina heard her father laugh. She resisted the urge to kick the back of his seat like a child, again.

"How're you planning to get home, again?" Her dad asked. She'd told both her parents that she was going to stay behind with the Rogues to talk about something after the wake. She hadn't told them that it was about something they may or may not have done thirty years ago. And, given that all four of them were going to this party together for the sake of convenience.

"I'll take care of that, myself. You don't need to worry about me." Jaina pointed out. She heard her father make a dismissive noise that, in other contexts, might have been childish.

"You're my daughter – I'll worry about you when I damn well please." He retorted.

"You're not worrying about Jacen." Jaina observed, loudly, as she glanced towards her brother. And, if they were going to talk about it, Jacen seemed more in need of worry than Jaina – he was unusually quiet, and, as had been the pattern lately, moody and sullen.

Of course, Jaina's father said nothing to that comment.

"Who else is going to be there?" Jacen asked, so suddenly that Jaina saw her mother jump.

"The Rogue Squadron, for one, and some family and friends." Her mother said, which Jaina could only take to mean Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara would be there, and possibly a few Jedi that had known Tycho or Winter.

"Lando's gonna be there, too." Her father put in, not to Jaina's surprise, "And didn't you 'Cordially invite' Tenel Ka, sweetheart?" This was directed at Jaina's mother, but had a profound effect on Jacen.

"I CONSIDERED it, but never sent the invitation." Her mother replied, in a severe tone that Jaina recognized as 'I know better than to invite a political leader in the middle of a crisis to a party, you nerfherder.'

Somehow, Jaina had a chilling feeling that something would go wrong with the evening. Instead of mentioning it, she speculated why the party would be taking place in an apartment elsewhere in the city than the House, itself. All the other members of her family were uncomfortably silent until they arrived at said apartment.

The Countess was waiting outside the door, looking incredibly bored as she smoked one of her cigarras. It was a pure white building with pillars outside the doors, just like the other apartments on the building. This particular suite, however, was the only one that Jaina could see a balcony over the pillars and, through the windows, could see a staircase leading to an upper floor. That, and it looked like it was coming apart at the seams, from the distressed paint that hadn't been bothered to be redone, to the windows which still had flimsiplast covering them.

Why it was one of the apartments in the Coruscanti Diplomatic Envoys district... well, Jaina was completely lost on that one.

"What's the big idea behind THIS setup?" Were the first words Jaina's father demanded of the Countess. After exhaling a mouthful of blue smoke, the Countess gave them all one of her chillingly sweet smiles.

"For one, the House isn't in quite the right state for a large group to gather there. It's simpler to have a different place for the night that all the guests will be quite safe in." She explained, "Besides, I'd hate for you to get lost on your way to the fresher, again, Captain."

Jaina didn't pay too much attention on the way in, except to note exits in case of emergencies – 'Thanks, Aunt Mara, now I'm paranoid for life' she thought – and the familiar faces that she greeted. Indeed, her Aunt and Uncle had already arrived and had Ben by their side. Jaina saw Wedge and Janson and Hobbie over in the corner – and they saw her, too; Jaina recognized the nod Wedge gave in her direction – and Winter was already talking with Master Solusar, and, right on cue, Lando strode over and gave her father a clap on the shoulder.

Instead of being able to relax and think, though, Jaina found herself completely set off by the uneasy feeling she got from this building. She wasn't sure what it was, but it felt very much like there was an enormous sign flashing in front of her saying 'You don't have TIME to be thinking – get out of here, now!'

Jaina tried to relax – there were other Jedi here who were completely at ease in the situation. There obviously wasn't anything wrong with the building, and if there was something posing a threat to anyone's safety, the other Jedi would have sensed it, themselves. She paced about the edges of the room, trying not to act as anti-social as she really wanted to.

"Well, we aren't feeling shy tonight, are we?" Jaina would not admit to it, but she might have squeaked. And jumped. And spun so quickly she almost fell over. Standing right next to her was a young man with hair that reached past his shoulders in the color of crystalized honey. His jacket was red and trimmed with brocade that gleamed in the light, and he carried an armful of artificial flowers that looked like they'd been spun from metal.

He was also standing less than a foot away from Jaina, head and shoulders over her and smiling in a way that, as fine and fair as it looked on his face, it made her skin crawl.

Though, admittedly, that might have been because she hadn't even seen him come up next to her.

"My apologies; I didn't startle you, did I?" This guy continued to hover awkwardly close, pulling one of the fake flowers out and very deliberately tucking it behind her ear, "I'd hate to have offended someone so lovely without even intending to, and without even knowing her name."

Well, the first thing Jaina could think to say to that was 'Then, get out of my personal space.' But she also knew better than to make a scene or to be quite that rude to someone she had barely just met. Not to mention that this was a function for Winter, and in Tycho's memory... All of her instincts for manners just plain told her to not raise a fuss.

"...I'm sorry, do I know you?" Was what she finally said. The stranger only smiled.

"Ah, and here's our last guest." The Countess turned and breezed over towards them. Everyone's eyes followed and Jaina did her best to appear innocuous, "Everyone, this young fellow is Cristine Muntique, the son of one of my business partners who is staying on Coruscant for some time."

Jaina sensed something coming from her mother almost immediately – close to the 'Ha, got you' kind of sense when her mother was playing politics. It would have done more to ease her nerves if it weren't for the fact that this Cristine was still far too close for comfort.

There was then some kind of talk about introducing this guy to Jaina's parents, something about getting on with the party, and more talk that Jaina didn't listen to, because she utterly couldn't focus on it – something else in the air here just would not let her calm down. No, not it wouldn't let her calm down – it was making her mind gnaw on itself, like a nervous dog biting at anything that came close, simply because it wasn't sure what was a threat and what wasn't.

"Jaina?" She hadn't even realized it when her mother came up by her side, frowning at her wrinkled face, "Are you feeling okay?"

Jaina didn't answer, but did attempt to hide her discomfort a little more.

She'd never say it, but of all the flyboys, rogues, and scoundrels she could handle, she never thought a real gentleman would be the thing to throw her off her game.

* * *

(A/N: Ha ha. It's funny because, if anyone can tell which character from the Count of Monte Cristo Cristine is supposed to be, you'll know exactly how much of a gentleman he really is.)

* * *

"So, no clue where she came from, who she really is, and there have been murder sprees, a political crisis, and Luke's been poisoned, ever since she came to Coruscant?" Lando asked, he and Han both keeping their voices remarkably quiet. If she hadn't also seen them do this at various points through the wars, Leia never would have believed that these two gregarious and loud creatures could ever be so serious.

Leia had only steered herself into this conference after a few minutes of the gathering – she still refused to call it a party, because it was anything but – while Han and Jacen had gone about and said their hellos and paid lip-service to the idea that this was a wake for Tycho.

Even Winter acted like she knew this gathering was just a farce to smoke out something on the Countess.

Jaina had been utterly silent after meeting Cristine, but was now over with Luke and Mara, talking about the apparent Hell the Temple's new resident had been causing them and teasing Ben for not being old enough to drink as he kept coughing up his water.

"Markets for property and several stock firms have also been falling and the standard galactic credit is starting to decrease in value." Tendra mentioned. Leia frowned, and even Han and Lando looked surprised at this news, "None of you were aware of this?"

At the very least, Leia would admit to being embarrassed. At worst, she was humiliated.

"When did this happen?" Lando asked his wife, looking at least twice as embarrassed as Leia that he missed something happening in the market.

"The last few months. Several banks in at least three major systems each had accounts opened by one person with enormous sums being deposited, then withdrawn and closed without even enough time for the banks to know where their funds went. And two corporations have had their stocks driven into the ground in Correllia."

Han gave a nasty jolt to this news.

"But, none of this has been in the news reports, lately." Leia protested, then when Tendra gave her a quizzical look, Leia realized how foolish it would be to expect news in the reports about different systems finances collapsing.

"In any case, I'll see what I can dig up on her." Lando concluded before the Countess sauntered over and, more or less, poked her nose in.

"I was under the impression that this was to be a social convention for everyone."

Han shrugged and unabashedly grinned in her face.

"Ain't our fault you don't know how to throw a party."

Leia was meanly pleased to see the Countess' face warp with displeasure, as though she were biting back a few clever retorts of her own.

"In that case, perhaps we should turn to our guest of honor – it would, after all, be rude to ignore her during this."

Leia gracefully inserted herself between Han and the Countess.

"That would be a wonderful idea." She answered, giving Han a nudge in the ribs that was supposed to, at any rate, tell him to shut up and go with it. Thankfully, he did. As soon as their host's back was turned, Leia shot Lando and Tendra a meaningful look which, thankfully, they understood.

It was, of course, at this moment that the power went out.

Leia didn't know who, but she definitely heard someone scream. And there was, of course, a brief moment of panic for everyone, when Leia bumped into someone that grunted an awful lot like Lando and she felt someone else's foot crush her toes.

"The power's out!" After the shouting stopped, Leia heard Ben's voice make THAT little proclamation. There was another moment of silence, then Leia heard some kind of groan from somewhere in the darkness.

"Thank you, Sieur Ben – now we have a firm grasp of the obvious." And that definitely sounded like the Countess's voice.

"What fresh hell is this, anyway?" Han muttered, sounding even more irritable than before.

"It must be the heat. And it's been a dry past few weeks – it wouldn't surprise me if something broke in the building's generator." The Countess commented.

"Shouldn't the landlord have dealt with that problem already, though?" It sounded like Mara who was wondering that. Leia didn't hear the Countess make any reply, but the silence seemed to say something in and of itself.

What it said, though...

"Oh well, nothing to be done about it except try and find something to give us light." Was her suggestion at last, "If everyone would just like to make themselves comfortable, I can find our emergency back up."

Nobody was in quite the mood to argue, especially not when the Countess didn't wait for anyone to offer different opinions before disappearing through a door. As Leia's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the other guests milling about, almost everyone uncomfortable with the darkness and with the fact that they were completely stranded in this apartment that was growing steadily more stifling.

"...Y'know... if any of us really wanted dirt on this lady, now would be the time to go looking for it." And there, Leia could hear the one and only Wes Janson. When Han had sent the Rogues their invites for the gathering, Wes had been the one to question exactly what Han had wanted to accomplish – even now, Leia agreed it was a vague plan of action to just get inside someone's house and 'sniff around for something nasty'.

Of course, now that they were here, Leia had a much better idea of something she could do.

"I'll go into the upper level – if there's anything up there, I'm at least familiar with the floor plan." Leia slipped out from under Han's arm and found her way to the stairwell. Through the Force, Leia felt a brush of understanding from Luke and Mara – if nothing else, this idea of hers would depend on her sense as a Jedi. And, if she was understanding how Mara and Luke were responding, they planned on doing the same thing on this level.

That, and keep the other guests calm – Leia wasn't stupid. She'd noticed how uncomfortable Jaina had been, earlier, and she'd had a similar feeling of unease about this place. She just knew to push it out of the way when there was work to do.

Now, however, it was coming back, full force. And if Leia could sense it, then it must be driving the other, much more capable Jedi in the group out of their minds. Leia took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. In this case, she knew that she could at least tell when someone had something to hide. She'd been able to see through politicians and war-mongers and criminals. She could focus on this.

And there was something here. She'd rarely, if ever experienced real sensations through the Force like Luke had, and only a few of those had ever been incredibly distinct. Where Luke could feel things, just like they were a part of him, Leia could only sense these things as outside of her – like a reflection out of the corner of her eye, or a lingering smell wafting down a corridor. This was something eerie, something that seemed to emanate from a room in the corner of the apartment.

Leia ran her hand along the side of the wall, hugging it just in case what she was sensing was something more dangerous than just a lingering fear or emotion. It didn't feel too solid – there was a faintness to the sensation that didn't seem to be a waiting trap or anything. But, on the other hand, there was something else tingling in her nerves that told her to go back.

It felt almost like hearing something on the other side of the door and not knowing if the noise was something waiting for her to open it so it could spring out and attack her, or if it was just a recording, intended to fool anyone who was listening.

After what seemed like an eternity, Leia paused at the door. Everything inside her was quivering at the sensation she was feeling through the Force. It almost made her feel ill. It took every ounce of discipline she'd learned through her entire lifetime to take another deep breath, ready herself, and then Force push the door open. A gust of air blew out, like a vacuum opening up, or a great beast exhaling as it parted it's jaws.

Now, Leia's impression of something in the room worsened and lessened at the same time. The ringing in her ears, as though she could hear something that rang in her head had increased, as though in pitch. Leia craned her head to peer around the doorway. The room was a simple bedchamber, but it looked as though it hadn't been touched in at least a decade, if more. Dust hung thick in the air and over the surfaces of everything inside. The mattress was almost on the floor, the repulsors holding it up were so weak and buzzing faintly. There was a bureau beside the mattress with an assortment of articles and tubes that had cobwebs gathering between them. And, from all of it, Leia felt like something was screaming at her, beckoning her to come in and loosen it.

Cautiously, Leia stepped into the room, creeping closer towards the mattress and letting her hand hover over it, contemplating if she should touch it and disturb the dust, or if she should leave it be. Her feet took her towards the bureau, the objects strewn over it's top practically drawing her eye on their own. Carefully, Leia bent down to examine them on an eye level. The first thing that she noticed was a little badge with a needle protruding from it. With the corner of her smallest finger, Leia brushed the dust from the badge and it's screen, until she could see a word flickering on the holoscreen: Positive.

Brain racing, Leia's eyes took in the exact shapes of the other items on the bureau surface. They all did look like something medical – she saw tubes, a point that might have been a needle, and something that was a computer or machine of sorts, connected to a thick pipe and plasti-mask.

Now, she understood exactly what had been making her so uneasy. That ringing noise that had been only a sensation through the Force almost felt like it had suddenly snapped into full existence within the room, and if she didn't get out of there, her eardrums would bleed from listening to it.

Something brushed against her foot. Leia glanced down, expecting to see something like a rodent or a spider, or some other sign of decomposition in the room.

Instead, poking out from under the bed, was a tiny hand, no bigger than her toe, discolored and shriveled like it was covered in blood.

* * *

The CMC reemerged from the adjoining room with her hands filled with candles, only one of them lit in a stand, when everyone heard the shriek that issued from the upper level of the apartment.

"Leia!"

A/N: No. That's where I'm ending this chapter. You guys will just have to wait until the next one to figure out what happened. Ha ha.

And... in the meantime, give me your feedback on what I plan to do – if enough people tell me that they don't mind this fic being what it is right now, then I probably won't go to the trouble of a rewrite. But I still think it really does need it.


	28. Part III: Chapter 3

CMC: Schadenfruede

By Sapadu

Chapter 3:

Of all the people who made it to his mother's side the fastest, Jacen didn't think anyone ran quicker than Winter. She was the first to help the Countess lift Leia off the floor, and help her back down into the main room.

"Keep her feet elevated, and be sure she has some water when she wakes up." The CMC instructed, simultaneously obeying the orders she'd issued. Jacen stayed back and out of the way, observing.

Why would his mother have fainted? Of all the people Jacen knew, he couldn't think of one less likely to faint than his own mother – and, yes, he did realize that included Winter, Tenel Ka, his Aunt Mara, and even his own sister. Jacen would even be able to imagine several Knights in the Jedi Order who might be more prone to fainting... possibly even himself, or his own father.

So... that left the question to what had happened? What had made her scream like that, and what was responsible for this? Jacen couldn't even come to any ideas.

"Leia?" Jacen could hear his father inquiring. His mother didn't answer, still very much unable to speak.

"What's wrong with her?" Winter asked, keeping Jacen's mother's feet propped up. Her voice sounded just as panicked as Jacen heard his father sounding.

Then again, Jacen supposed it made a little sense – this party had been a wake for Tycho, and Jacen's mother was just as close to Winter, if not more. Compound that with precisely how Tycho had passed on... for Jacen's mother to pass out like this, Jacen reasoned it was probably just as stressful for Winter.

"If I had to guess, I would say this is another case of heatstroke." Replied the CMC, whom had just pulled up from wrapping a fistful of ice in a cloth. Jacen gave her a look – standing next to a vat with wine on ice, the cubes melting into a slush and herself clothed from head to toe in a heavy black dress and jacket.

Well, certainly, it was unbearably hot in the apartment – Jacen had discarded his jacket long ago, and plenty of the other guests were furtively stealing cubes of ice to either put on their foreheads or suck on. But it wasn't a good enough explanation for why Jacen's mother was the only one to pass out.

"Really?" Jacen found himself replying. He didn't care if the Countess or any of the other guests stared at him – there was just far too much about this scenario he could not abide by.

"I did say 'guess', Sieur Jacen. I suppose we'll have to wait for Dame Solo to wake up before we can have a solid conclusion." She commented, sounding almost offended that Jacen didn't believe her diagnosis. Maybe she even was – either that, or offended that she couldn't MAKE him believe her.

Why Jacen's father wasn't reacting to any of this – nor any of the other guests, for that matter – Jacen couldn't understand, but that wasn't important at the moment.

"For now, the best option would seem to be trying to regulate her temperature, and keep her blood pressure from dropping." The CMC said, as though in conclusion to some long puzzle that nobody had already figured out, "And perhaps for the rest of you, it would be wise to keep as cool as possible – formality and table manners can be set aside for the moment."

Maybe it was her pompous tone of voice, but Jacen's father apparently wanted to hear something else. Jacen could see his father give the CMC the dirtiest look possible.

"'Scuse me for asking..." He said, in a voice that clearly meant he didn't want to be excused, in the least, "But why in the Hell is this place of yours so damn hot?" And the tone of those words also quite clearly conveyed that he personally thought it was totally the CMC's fault that Jacen's mother had fainted and that any of them were in this situation.

The Countess pretended not to have heard him, as she was behaving uncharacteristically servantile by running around and ensuring there was enough ice and water to keep everyone from the same fate. Jacen kept glancing back and forth between the Countess and his mother. There had to be something going on here that he wasn't seeing – some kind of manipulation, something that looked one way but was something else in reality.

"Captain." The Countess finally seemed to realize there was a quick solution to their problem and turned to Jacen's father, "You'd know best – has the Madame had enough water, today? It could just be dehydration."

Whatever the problem, it was quickly resolved that it would be best to get everyone out of the apartment, and it would be wisest to take Jacen's mother to a medcenter, or at least home as soon as possible. Jaina helped their father assist their mother to her feet and out to the speeder. Jacen lingered behind. Nothing in the room seemed suspicious, but he could feel something out of place.

He calmed himself, stretched into the Force, and groped around for it. There was something off – like he'd come in and seen the room laid out one way, and now was coming back in and seeing the furniture rearranged.

Poison, maybe? He glanced towards the beverages, but he couldn't feel anything from that, and, either way, he hadn't seen his mother drink anything that night.

"Sieur Jacen?" The Countess asked. When Jacen turned to meet her gaze, he found himself confronted with the image of curiosity and concern. Her head was tilted to the side, her eyes wide, her lips relaxed, but pressed together, as though she wanted to as a thousand questions but was keeping them contained for his benefit.

It was a look that, to Jacen's jaded and cynical mind, looked impeccably calculated. Almost perfectly, because Jacen almost wanted to believe she knew nothing and was just an air-headed aristocrat with the bad luck to be at the center of however many awful coincidences had happened so far.

But, on the other hand, he knew better.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, innocently as possible.

"I do have one question." He asked, watching her face for any sort of hint. After all, he didn't expect a straightforward answer, but how she skirted the question might give him some sort of information, "What exactly are you trying to pull?"

It almost shocked Jacen how her expression changed so little, but somehow managed to shift into something else, entirely. All the question got was a short, dry, hollow laugh. It was the kind of laugh that came from the sarcastic 'Don't make me laugh'. It was a laugh accompanied with half-curved lips that weren't a smile, and a mouth that opened too wide to be convincing, but with the intention of being insincere.

"Surely you jest, Sieur Jacen. My only intention was to grant your mother's request to the fullest of my ability." And Jacen was almost convinced, if it weren't for the fact that he couldn't believe anything that she was saying or how she was acting, "Why, whatever do you suspect me of?"

And that was ultimately the question that served as Jacen's catch twenty-two. He knew there was something wrong with this woman – he could feel it in the Force, in his gut, in his bones. But in terms of a crime – if he had to accuse her of one – there was nothing. The worst he could think was that she was just generally creepy and unnaturally odd.

He was also ultimately stuck with this suspicion on his own – if he were to tell anyone else, they'd brush this off as paranoia. Even his own sister. Jacen was absolutely sure that he couldn't trust this with anyone else. It was all up to him.

"Who said anything about suspecting?" Was his eventual answer. It was every bit as transparent as the Countess' response to his question. But she simply shrugged, content to let the conversation fizzle out.

"The last I checked, your family was still outside waiting for you." Jacen doubted that – Jaina had said she was going somewhere with the Rogue Squadron afterwards, and his father wouldn't have waited to get his mother to a medcenter. But, on the other hand, there had to be a reason the Countess didn't want him to stick around. He could fake it.

It was with a reluctant courtesy that he stepped outside and let the Countess shut the door behind him. And, just as he expected, the coast was long clear of anyone but himself and the smugly chuckling CMC behind the locked apartment door.

* * *

Jaina, meanwhile, was occupied with her own problems. The other Rogues had already picked a pub somewhere in one of the middle levels – not as seedy or grimy as others, but still with enough spacers and pirates spending their credits that it gave the place a kind of homey charm.

It wasn't surprising, then, that Wedge, Wes, and Hobbie had already ordered a few rounds of Corellian Ale and were already plenty tipsy. Jaina was the only one fully sober, more because she'd only had one round than because of any tolerance. Either way, it was making for some very uncomfortable moments, especially when they started talking about how they remembered Jaina as a little kid or how they couldn't believe she was an adult already.

"Y'just never know how they'll turn out." Wes commented, giving Jaina a hearty slap on the shoulder. Her nose almost went into her mug of ale.

"Seems like it was just yesterday – getting kidnapped every weekend, begging to work the controls of one of our starships, trying to take things apart and put 'em back together..." Hobbie agreed, with a look in his glazed eyes that almost made him look wistful if Jaina hadn't known better.

"You know, I did have some questions that I was hoping you guys could answer." She finally started. Wedge, being the man behind this meeting, sat straighter up and tried to bring some propriety to the moment.

"Right... so, since all of us are here now, what kind of questions did you have, Sticks?"

Feeling like a scratched info disc, Jaina repeated her dilemma for everyone at the table. Wedge focused his attention on his ale, while Wes and Hobbie both gave the appropriate reactions at the right parts of the story – bored with any news about the CMC, interested in the account of the Killiks, and outright shocked when she related what she'd heard from her parents. By the end of it all, the drinks were forgotten at the table and the Rogue Squadron looked well and truly stumped.

"So... you're looking for info about what was happening about thirty years ago?" Wes finally asked. Jaina stirred her drink with her straw.

"If there were any people you can think of, if there's any source I could go looking for that information, if you don't know..." She said.

Hobbie pushed himself back from the table, stretching his back against his chair.

"That was before Isard, wasn't it?" He asked Wedge, whom just shrugged. Apparently, he was still drawing just as much a blank as he was before. Wes popped his feet up on the table, either not realizing the looks it was drawing or not caring.

"Let's see, there was the Mindor campaign, the second battle of Thyferra, the liberation of Clak'dor VII..." He counted off on his fingers, interrupted when Jaina mentioned that Wedge had already covered the major events, "And your Uncle was starting to take on apprentices."

Jaina sat up straight. She'd known that Uncle Luke had to have trained a few people before instituting the Jedi Praxeum, but she had no idea it had been that early.

"Well, kinda." Hobbie put in, "Remember, lots of them didn't work out. There were those pilots he had to train for the Rogues or who just joined up with the Alliance... They never went anywhere."

"Yeah, and he kept getting mopey over some kid who died after the whole thing on Bakura whenever we started getting drinks in..." Wedge agreed, apparently starting to recall them a bit more thoroughly.

"And there was the kiddo." At this, the whole table gave a loud murmur of agreement. All, of course, except Jaina.

"Kiddo?" It sounded awfully familiar. Actually, it sounded almost exactly like how her father had furtively described whomever Jaina's parents were frightened of. She was aware that that was a vague notion to go on, but there was still this sensation she got that there was more meaning behind everything than just the obvious surface meaning.

Wes shrugged.

"He was around for a few months – didn't see him, much, but he was always hanging around Luke."

"Weird kid – grew up under some rock, somewhere or something. Least that's what Luke told us."

"Always talking. Kinda annoying. Nice enough, though – sweet kid."

Jaina leaned in. It was as though she knew that there was something special about this information. This was what she'd been looking for. This was what she needed.

She wouldn't say it was the Force speaking to her... but it was close. It was this feeling. She knew. She knew, she knew, she KNEW.

"Anything else?" She asked, feeling more than a little dizzy. There had to be something more than just that to the story. Much to her disappointment, Wes and Hobbie both shrugged.

"We didn't see much of him – only when he came along after Luke." Wes grumbled, taking another swig of his ale, "Though, I do remember we all once tried to teach him how to play sabaacc. Remember what the little kriffer did to us?"

And that was the unofficial sign that Wes had hit the lower bar of his tolerance.

"Yeah. He memorized the card spread and calculated the hands we had. I was so pissed." Wedge agreed, apparently having had enough ale to smear his judgement, "Then Han asked him if he was counting cards or using the Force kind of shit to cheat, and the kiddo just told us how he'd calculated it out..."

"Lucky we weren't playing for credits or nothing." Hobbie agreed.

Jaina frowned, looking between all of the Rogues as they talked and jibed and reminisced. They'd obviously had too much to drink at this point, mostly because she could tell they'd forgotten that she was there.

"Who was this kid?" She asked, hoping that they wouldn't be too disturbed by the change in conversation.

Wes was the one to answer.

"Dunno... just some kid..." He slurred, "Talked like a droid, always asking questions, just this little know-it-all..."

Jaina was starting to feel panicked. A person who had been a kid thirty years ago would be an adult by now. And that was assuming her parents had been right to be nervous. What if this person had survived? There was absolutely no reason to rule them out. At this point, Jaina was willing to grasp at any straws she could find.

"Is there anything else?" She asked. Appearance, a name, any kind of information she could go chasing after.

If nothing else, it would be a shot. And that was all Jaina was hanging onto, at this point. If our audience would recall how her brother was fixated on unraveling the mystery of the CMC, Jaina was determined to get to the root of her parent's concerns, and she also knew, deep down in her soul, that she was the only one who could do this. She had to be the one to figure it out, and she obviously couldn't just ask her mother or father what it was that bothered them.

Wes shrugged. Wedge shrugged. Hobbie seemed to be the only one able to think.

"...Leia didn't like him." He finally said. Jaina scooted her seat closer to Hobbie, eager for the information, "...Don't remember much, but it was just that she didn't... I dunno... she was always really cold around him. Didn't see them together all that much, and I guess that was weird."

Jaina didn't stop herself from letting out a heavy sigh.

"What do you want?" Wes demanded, "Everything was this huge clusterfuck back then. There wasn't anything specific – just every day's orders. Do this on Primeday, do that on Centaxday, go back and undo what you did on Primeday on Taungsday. It was like that for weeks. Months. A whole year! You expect us to know everything?"

Jaina forced herself into a state of calm. Or as close as she could come with all of this anxiety and worry and these pressing concerns that wouldn't let up from her. She could think. She wasn't demanding, she wasn't worried.

"...Is there anywhere that I could find more on this kid?" She finally forced herself to ask in a reasonable voice, "...Any records of the Alliance register? Any logs or composites of Rebel forces that might have an account of him? Anything at all?"

Wedge seemed to think it over. Hobbie was conspicuously silent.

Finally, Wes came up with something.

"Well, Luke found this kid when the base was on Yavin Four, somewhere... and he disappeared somewhere around there."

"Yeah..." Hobbie agreed, "Because the kid just..." He snapped his fingers, "...disappeared, out of nowhere, and we got Luke all drunk and he woke up the next morning and didn't remember a thing about it."

"Better than being all depressed, like he was." Wedge interjected.

Jaina ignored them and sank back into thinking it over.

Yavin Four. An apprentice of her Uncle Luke. And someone whom her parents had wanted dead, thirty years ago.

There was nothing to do, but make the trip.

* * *

"So, how was the party?"

Of all things, Mara supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to see Orewahime waiting for them as they returned from the wake. If Luke was surprised, he gave no indication of it, and, to his credit and Mara's surprise, Ben didn't react in any of the normal ways one would expect of a curious, nosy, almost nine-years-old boy.

She also wasn't too surprised to see the lurking Trike standing well behind her.

How old was this woman again?

"None of your business." She replied, more than happy that Luke wasn't taking it upon himself to explain. There was also the fact that Ben was staring at both Orewahime and her partner with a perplexed and curious look in his otherwise glazed eyes.

"It totally is my business – this guy who died was killed from a little cold?"

"His name was Tycho Celchu."

"The POINT is..." Orewahime kept going as though Mara hadn't interrupted her. Luke was carefully steering Ben away from the scene – probably because neither of them wanted to explain this whole mess to their son – and Mara could see Triclops' gaze fixated on the two of them.

What exactly was going through his head? Mara wasn't entirely certain she was happy having him in the building. But she had no reason to be outright mistrustful – not like Luke had had reason to be cautious of her, and look at where they were now. It wouldn't be fair to not give this guy a chance at least...

So what was it she was feeling off of him? Was it just an unease because this was obviously an environment he wasn't comfortable in? Or was it because of something else?

"...And you're totally not listening to me, are you?" Orewahime finally said. Mara snapped her attention back to the crabby medic woman. Orewahime wasn't meeting Mara's eyes, but still focused on her face – if her eyes had any focus to them, at all.

"Maybe I just don't like you." Was the first response Mara could think of and spit out. Inside, though, she knew that it wasn't the only reason she was acting this way. Part of her was ashamed, because she should know better and be able to control herself, but there was also a part of her that was furious with everything at hand, that blamed everything around her for providing nothing but circumstances that forced her to react like this.

After all, Triclops was a puzzle and a mystery and a headache that Mara knew she should have understood, but didn't, and Orewahime was nothing more than a pest and had done nothing but make hers and Luke's lives miserable since she'd shown up. But Orewahime never would have entered the picture if Luke hadn't been poisoned for no reason – a reason that Mara still couldn't figure out, and if this wasn't happening, Mara wouldn't have to think about the fact that she'd failed in something, either as a Jedi or a woman who used to be intelligent enough to figure out the most puzzling of questions without even trying, and now the littlest mystery stumped her.

Come to think of it, Mara was fairly confident Luke never would have been poisoned if they hadn't had that mess in the Unknown Regions. Maybe, maybe not, but she was still doubtful that things would be the way they were now if it weren't for that. And the mess in the Unknown Regions probably would have been very different, itself, if it weren't for Ben acting strange and that Countess... in fact, there would be so many things different right now if Ben had never met that woman.

At least... while Mara couldn't say anything for sure, there was still a feeling she had that was very firmly centered on this vague notion that everything was all connected, and if one little thing had been different, nothing would be what it was at that moment.

And it irritated her beyond all belief and all reason that she had absolutely no certainty for any of what she'd just reflected on.

"Kenda." Triclops spoke up. Mara cast him a glance that might have been hostility or might have been gratitude, "Is this really so important that Master Jade-Skywalker cannot take off her coat, first?"

Indeed, Mara had still not even taken off her coat, or boots.

Orewahime fully turned to glare at her partner. Mara sighed and started to shrug off her jacket.

"Trike, you were the one who said in the beginning that the Skywalker brat's poisoning was probably a third party. I'm just trying to get to the end of this business, so we can go home and be done with this." Mara wanted to roll her eyes that Orewahime was still focused on that, but she supposed she wouldn't let it go so easily. And the only reason she wasn't actively pursuing the topic and poking around in everyone else's business trying to solve it was a combination of Orewahime already having beaten her to being the first one, and the fact that Luke was in no apparent hurry to understand it, himself.

Mara hated to admit it – and she was thus infinitely grateful that she didn't have to, not to anyone other than herself – but her pride was smarting more than a little at being so confused.

"It could wait a whole evening – surely ten or twenty more minutes will not kill anyone."

While the two bickered, Mara darted around them, more than willing to avoid the conversation, entirely.

"Hey, where're you going, girly-girl?" And that was the breaking point. Though she felt foolish and childish and it defied every discipline she'd ever mastered and every lesson her Jedi training had brought her, Mara spun on her heel and socked Orewahime square in the jaw.

Trike did nothing, simply stand in the background and watch, while Orewahime staggered and finally righted herself.

"Would it really be too much for you to just go away and leave me alone?" Mara hissed. Orewahime didn't respond, except to aim a kick at Mara's shins. If Mara had been less distracted, she would have dodged. As it was, Orewahime sent her to the floor.

"I'll go away when I've finished my job. The more time I spend here, the sooner I can get lost and don't think I like hanging around you lot anymore than y'all want me bumming around this bullshit Temple of yours." Orewahime snapped, dropping all pretenses of wit or playfulness and letting Mara get back to her feet.

Mara glared, watching Orewahime's face as she searched for an appropriate rebuttal. Ultimately, there was nothing Mara could say that would be more to the point of making Orewahime bug off – and the only way Mara knew that was because every reaction Orewahime had made up until now was just what she, herself, would have done. And Mara certainly wouldn't have let herself end an argument unless she had the last word.

It was certainly a nasty reminder of how childish she was being, right now. Mara knew better than to keep going.

"Right. What else do you expect from me, then?" She relented. If Luke were present, Mara could imagine him shaking his head with the same thin-lipped, exasperated smile as Trike was giving Orewahime at that moment.

"Any info you got – what were y'all up to when this kicked in? You and the Skywalker brat were investigating something or other, least that's what I got from the gossip everyone else was passin' around."

"Serial killings. There was suspicion that someone either Force-sensitive or something similar was behind them, so Chief Omas asked for some assistance from the Order."

"In order to keep a closer eye on you?" Trike interjected. Mara shot him a look, as though to say 'Do you really think we're THAT stupid?'

"The thought had occurred to us, yes." She replied, pointedly.

"Trike, they're not THAT useless." Orewahime pointed out, and Mara half wanted to punch her again, but also knew that she'd already done that, and once was enough to make her feel foolish enough to behave more maturely.

"There might also be the possibility that what you were investigating is linked to what happened to Commander Skywalker." Trike commented. And that, too, had occurred to Mara... Or it would have, if she'd stopped to think about it. She gave him another look, which spared her the problem of acknowledging that she hadn't been as sharp as she was used to being.

"So, that leaves us with two possibilities of who it could be: Someone related to the murders or someone with a personal vendetta." Mara counted, also recalling the other scenario Trike had composed for anyone who would pick mercury to poison anyone, "Or it could be someone with both, especially if this person who knew about everything that happened in the Unknown Regions also has a hand in what's been going on across the galaxy."

"Or it could just be someone who's in just for the hell of it." Orewahime suggested. When Mara gave her a rather dirty look, Orewahime just shrugged, "If I know anything about people, its that we all do some stupid shit in our lives, and there are some people out there who live for that stupid shit. They wouldn't need any reason, other than the challenge of assassinating someone as important and hard to kill as Skywalker, or just to cause confusion and make everyone's lives difficult."

"By definition, that sounds like you suspect Luke just had the bad luck to attract the attention of a psychopath." Mara pointed out. Trike held up a hand.

"For any or all of this to be the work of a sociopath, they would have to be adept, probably even Force-sensitive themselves in order to not..." He paused, as though something were just occurring to him, "...Get caught..." Mara frowned in his direction, wondering if she was failing to read his expression or if Trike was simply remaining expressionless by habit. Still, she could see something akin to alarm in his green, wide-set eyes.

In a way, Mara was relieved to see it – compared to someone else she remembered, who had never had any sense of alarm, not for someone other than himself.

Trike's voice suddenly shifted to a panicked tone as he pulled on Orewahime's arm, tugging at her with desperation that was almost childlike.

"Kenda... what is another word for mercury?" He whispered, as though he thought Mara wouldn't overhear him if he did.

Orewahime's response was to blink for several minutes.

"Uh... hydrargyrum?" She guessed, "Atomic number 80? Quicksilver?"

Mara saw his grip tighten on Orewahime's arm.

"Quicksilver." He whispered, "Quick. Silver." If that was supposed to mean something, Mara couldn't think what that might be. At any rate, Orewahime's eyebrows raised. It clearly meant something to her.

"So... you think..." Orewahime pressed. Whatever the inside joke was, Mara was wondering if she was even needed anymore, "...Seems like a pretty big coincidence..."

"There are no coincidences. All of this means something."

Mara kept looking between the two, wondering exactly what it was they were talking about. Finally, Trike turned back to look at her, that anxiety now gleaming in his eyes like a beacon signal.

"Master Jade Skywalker." He began in a serious tone that sounded so familiar to her ears and made her anticipate some sort of orders that might include going to execute a corrupt official or eliminate a troublesome political opponent, "...I think it will be in both our interests if I went over this case with you."

Mara gave him a steady, questioning look.

"You think that will get us closer to an answer?" She kept her voice even. For some reason, as much as she felt mistrustful of Trike, he didn't make her want to regress in her training or abandon any sense of caution or discipline, even though he did and said many of the same things as Orewahime.

"There is only one way to find out." He answered.

Mara knew what that meant. And, for as much trouble as it would cause, it there wasn't any other way she could think of that would conclude their involvement in the Temple.

* * *

"Dad, who are those people?" Ben asked his father, once he could be sure that neither the newcomers nor his mother would be able to hear him. It had been the oddest looking pair of people Ben thought he'd ever see in the Temple, and that was given that he knew plenty of older members in the Temple, some of whom were not Human and could therefore be considered unusual. The lady had been short – probably only a little bit taller than he was, with an eye patch that covered her whole face, one arm, and skin that Ben didn't think he'd seen even an inch of which wasn't scarred, freckled, or wrinkled in some way. On the other hand, the man had been taller than any living thing Ben had ever seen, like someone took a normal sized man and pulled and stretched until he was something unnatural, with the same scars and wrinkles as the little woman and hair that stuck up as though it were made of something other than hair. Ben's father, eyes already half-shut with exhaustion, wouldn't look at Ben. Just from what Ben could feel from his parents, there was certainly something else on their minds, and not just the fact that there were two unusual-looking strangers in the Temple.

Of course, nobody had said anything to Ben about it. So, whatever it was, he had no idea.

"A pair of guests." His father answered. Which, if Ben knew his father, was either an overly simple answer to hide the fact that the two 'guests' were something that his dad didn't want him to know about, or it was more complicated and Ben's father didn't fully understand, himself.

And if Ben's father didn't know how to think of someone, well... that just wasn't possible. Which just meant there was something else to them that his parents didn't want to tell him about.

"Oh." Ben thought about it a moment longer, "Are they Jedi, too?" They'd have to be – you weren't allowed to stay in the Temple unless you were a Jedi. Ben knew that.

"...Well..." His father answered, and actually paused, thinking. That just made Ben more curious. He'd been able to sense something from the strangers, but it had been brief, and he hadn't been really able to tell what it was. It was like looking at one of Ouduar's pictures and not knowing exactly what it was supposed to be, but at least knowing there was a definite shape in the colors.

"What are they called?" Ben asked, knowing his father wouldn't answer him if he just kept waiting.

"The lady is Medic Orewahime. The gentleman is her partner – she calls him 'Trike'."

"Okay." It still didn't answer if they were Jedi or not. And it particularly confused Ben, given that his father didn't even seem to know, for sure, "They looked familiar."

His father actually stopped. For whatever reason, this surprised him. Ben wondered why.

"Really?" Ben's father asked, sounding – and feeling – sincerely curious. That could only mean that he didn't understand how Ben might recognize them, and Ben could feel a certain amount of worry coming off of his father.

Ben shrugged.

"I dunno. Just kinda felt like I might have seen someone like them, before." His father frowned at him, but, after a moment, kept walking.

Really, though, Ben couldn't help but feel like he did recognize them from somewhere. He just couldn't remember where.

* * *

Jaina finally managed to stumble her way out of the bar, but only after the Rogues insisted on a few more drinks. Those few more drinks had turned into another hour of talking, dares, drinking games, and when Hobbie finally started to get sick, they all decided to call it quits before the bartender threw them out.

The air was still muggy as Jaina started on her walk back home – her father could worry all he wanted, but she still thought it had been a wise idea not to have one of the Rogues drop her off. In fact, she almost felt responsible for getting them back home, save for the fact that she'd also had a few too many.

And she knew better than to try piloting a speeder while inebriated.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Solo, again." This time, Jaina was certain she jumped, even though she was technically less surprised than she'd been the first time. Cristine Muntique was hovering right behind her, as though he'd appeared out of nowhere.

And, for all intents and purposes, he had. In spite of the crowd, she hadn't heard a thing – and, looking him over, Jaina was fairly confident that just the presence of someone as flamboyant and ridiculous as he would certainly have drawn stares and some chatter – and he hadn't even called out, so just saying hello out of nowhere was...

What was she thinking? She was getting worked up over nothing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you there, Mister Muntique." Jaina forced herself to be civil. Even if she was uncomfortable. But that was probably just the alcohol.

"No, the fault is mine – I should have tried to greet you in some other fashion." Muntique replied, smiling that same easy grin. Honestly, the way he carried himself and spoke and acted really reminded Jaina of Lando Calrissian.

That would have been much more comforting if Jaina didn't also know how Lando used to flirt with her mother.

"Only other way I can think of if you'd just grabbed my shoulder. That'd have gotten you a blaster up your nose."

Muntique chuckled at that. Probably for the best, compared to anyone that Jaina knew, whom would have known how dead serious she was about it. Zekk and Jag probably would have taken it as a challenge. It would have been a welcome, friendly challenge... that just wasn't what Jaina needed right now. Actually, what she really needed right now was to be left alone.

"That would be awkward." Muntique agreed, before finally extending a hand. Jaina stared at it for a moment, completely perplexed at what he expected, "I never got a chance to properly introduce myself – what with everyone else present, it would have been too forward of me."

"And you're not being forward, now?" Jaina muttered, deliberately loud enough for him to hear.

There was that grin again, and then Muntique stretched his arm out far enough to take her arm from her side. Jaina started a little, tensing up as Muntique trailed his fingers along her arm until her hand was cradled in his, then delicately raised it to his lips.

"A thousand apologies." He replied, "I simply can't stand the thought of starting off on the wrong foot with you – grant me a little reprieve, if only for the sake of my honor and pride as a gentleman."

And this sounded like a crock to Jaina. If she'd been sober, she would have called him on it. As she was, now, Jaina settled for reaching into the Force, trying to sense something from him. Even if it was to tell if he was just a lousy pick-up artist or a conniving con man trying to manipulate her. Just to sense him on the surface...

Jaina felt nothing. No, wait... nothing was what she felt from the Countess or anyone from the CMC's household. This man... she could feel something, but it was like feeling a wall. Something was blocking her.

Muntique was still hovering uncomfortably close to her. Specifically, her face.

"Miss Solo, are you feeling quite well?" He sounded so earnest, too, "Your face is quite flushed."

Jaina pressed her fingers against her cheeks. The skin of her hands felt cool to her face, but it could have just been because of the summer heat. Or it could have been the effects of drinking.

"I'm fine." She said, pleased that she managed to sound convincingly stable.

"You haven't been drinking, have you?" He even sounded concerned. Some borderline between friendly and paternal, as though he'd known her for years and his foremost thought was for her liver.

Of course, Jaina knew that was probably not why he was asking.

"I'm a member of the Rogue Squadron – it's only natural for pilots to go out drinking with their comrades." She pointed out. And listen to herself talking – making it sound so casual, when just having a sociable time hadn't been anywhere near what she'd intended.

"That might be, but the walk home is still a hazard on it's own." Whatever controlling fate was watching Jaina at that moment must have had something against her, because that was the exact moment that she almost tipped over, unbalanced from a combination of her shoes and her dizziness, "Please, I insist. If nothing else, I'd hate to be in the awkward position of encountering any of your family again and having to tell them I left you in such a state."

There was no rebuttal that Jaina could think of for that. In the end, she found herself steered back to her apartment with Muntique's hand on her shoulder and a thousand goosebumps going down her back.

* * *

Days passed, some slowly and some quickly. Leia recovered and brushed it off as she'd just been dehydrated, then proceeded to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Han had no choice but go along with that explanation, and they kept correspondence with Lando and Tendra, whom had started investigating the economic status of other planets and systems. Jacen went about his personal investigation of the Countess, going through background checks on any contact of hers that he could dig up. Jaina dug into Alliance logs and crew registers from the base on Yavin 4, hoping to garner as much background information as she could before she made the trip, and ignored any calls that she received from Zekk, Jag, Master Durron, and especially Cristine Muntique.

Mara had reluctantly resigned herself to her fate and grew accustomed to Trike sitting with her, poring over investigation documents and reports of the various murders through the galaxy. Medic Orewahime made herself an intrusion into Mara's and Luke's time whenever she could, but seemed to be missing from the Temple more often than not. Luke occupied himself with other Temple matters, seeming to care very little for his own personal safety, to Mara's chagrin.

And as for Ben, he continued to regularly visit the Countess, sometimes on his own, but more and more, someone from the Household would fetch him. Sometimes, Ouduar would come by to annoy him before beginning the trek to the Works. Sometimes, the CMC herself would pop by and amiably appease his parents before absconding with him for the day. Once or twice, Jacci would appear and cheerfully show off how she'd butchered her previously frilly and lacy dresses to make them appropriate for a hike.

The days became weeks. Before anyone realized it, it had been a year, and Ben had turned nine years old.

"Mom, I'm too old for this." Ben grumbled when, as he bumped into his mother at breakfast, she insisted on giving him a big kiss on the cheek 'To celebrate that you didn't do something stupid and get yourself killed for another year'. He managed to wrestle away just in time to run, face-first, into the tall, white-haired stranger that his father said was named 'Trike'. Ben had seen him, more and more, conspiring with his mother over some kind of detective work or business or whatever, which made it even more awkward when Trike bent at the waist and looked Ben directly in the eye. Even like that, he was still taller than Ben, and Ben found himself craning his neck to meet the man's gaze.

"You are never too old for your mother or father." Was all he said. Ben blinked for a few minutes, completely unable to move, "Are we clear?"

Ben nodded. Why his mother didn't say anything about it, Ben didn't understand, but in the next minute, Trike had righted himself and walked fully into the room, as though nothing had happened. Ben happily excused himself and managed to slip out of the Temple without being caught by anyone else who wanted to wish him a happy ninth.

Immediately outside the Temple doors, Ben skittered down the steps and was promptly pinned to the duracrete under his feet when someone landed on top of him.

"Mornin', Ben." Ben pulled his head up enough to see a pair of black shoes and a heavy, blue coat hanging over the bended legs attached to them.

"Hi, Ouduar." He mumbled, "What are you doing here?"

Ouduar pouted.

"I just wanted to say hi." He commented, and then Ben felt a poke in his lower back, "And, besides, both of us wanted to get outta that House and see you." Whoever was sitting on his back grabbed one of his hands.

'Hi, Ben.' He didn't need to look to know it was Jacci. He also didn't need to be told to know that it was a special occasion that both of them would come to see him, together.

'Hi, Jacci.' He spelled back onto her hand, before glancing at Ouduar with a curious frown, "Now I really don't get why you came along – I thought you and Jacci couldn't stand each other."

Ouduar cocked his head to one side. The light from the sun glared off of his spectacles, hiding his eyes from view and completely obscuring his expression. Still, Ben could mostly guess what Ouduar was thinking – probably something along the lines of 'What a strange thing to say'. That was usually Ouduar's response when Ben made any kind of comment that started with 'I thought'.

'I asked Uncle Ouduar to come along.' Jacci answered. Ben had long since stopped questioning why Jacci called him 'Uncle' when he was only a few years older than them, but he was particularly puzzled by hearing that it hadn't been an accident, 'I didn't want to be bothered by Neh-Nii-Kah and Uncle Gornash and Uncle Tilus trying to celebrate my birthday.' Jacci folded her arms over her chest to drive home the point that, like Ben, she clearly thought she was too old to be babied like that.

Ben's response was to blink in surprise.

"What?" He hadn't been aware that Jacci was also turning a year older. It certainly cleared up, now, why she'd been running around during carnival, just a year before, "But... wait... so, how old are you now?"

Jacci thrust both her hands in front of Ben's face, fingers extended. Ten. That was a surprise.

"I'm nine, today." Ended up falling out of his mouth before he could stop it, to which Ouduar promptly sat down in a deliberately comedic fashion.

"So, in other words, you were planning on coming to the House and hiding out there for the same reason Jacci wanted to come here and hide from that person and everyone else?" He asked. Ben pulled the best face that he could, slowly nodding. Ouduar sighed, "Well, that answers our next question and gives us a totally different one."

Ben didn't answer as Jacci finally let him up. She hadn't let go of his hand this whole time.

'We could go back and hide in Auntie Haid's room. Neh-Nii-Kah never bothers her.' Was her suggestion. Which was not what Ben had wanted to hear – of everyone in the Household that Ben had spent any amount of time with, the half-Twi'lek half-Human woman made him the most uncomfortable. The same way the Countess herself made Ben uncomfortable, but that was because she was the Countess, and there was more to her than just that.

The two times Ben had spoken with Haid had been... awkward. Very awkward. Enough so that Ben had avoided her, if possible, and it had, thankfully, been very possible.

Ben turned to look at Jacci and tell her just this when he stopped. He'd known that Jacci had changed a great deal over the last few months – seen her often enough to know that, first-hand – but this took him by surprise. She'd sheared her hair even shorter, to the point that it was almost a boyish cut. More than that, it was sticking up aside from the long strands of hair hanging where her bangs had grown out, and the cut framed her face almost like a halo of white hair around her whole head.

The next thing that caught him off-guard were her clothes – for one, Ben could tell they were intended for a boy, from the cut on the shirt collar and the sag in the ankles of the pants. For another, they were bright gray. No, not gray, but silver – like they'd been cut from sheets of aluminum, or the material emergency kit blankets were made from. It was such a bizarre look that Ben found himself speechless for a moment.

"...Jacci..." He began, pointing to her clothes. Jacci grinned back, obviously knowing what his next words would be.

'I found them in Neh-Nii-Kah's closet, and they fit, so I figured I might as well use them.'

Ben continued to blink, but didn't have a chance to argue about it as Jacci grabbed his arm and Ouduar's and started to drag them back to the House.

* * *

How Jacci had so quickly learned all the ways to sneak into the House, Ben supposed was due to her enthusiasm to finally be active and not confined to her room every second of the day. The fact that Ouduar knew all of them also seemed a likely explanation where Jacci had learned. Still, it didn't explain why they were climbing up the outside wall, or why they had to walk along the edge of a window sill or why Jacci felt the need to crawl on top of a pole that was inexplicably sticking out the side of the wall.

In the end, all of them ended up finding a spot on the outside wall that pushed inwards and allowed them to crawl into the space between the floor and the ceiling of two rooms. Why it was there, Ben wasn't sure and wasn't able to ask before Ouduar pushed up on the floor and popped them into a greenhouse.

Ben came next and pulled himself to his feet, looking around. In every direction, there was some kind of new vegetation that he hadn't recognized before. There was a potted tree that had tendrils hanging from it's branches instead of leaves, and a vine held up on a wooden support that wrapped and curled so heavily that it might have been a tree on it's own, and rows of bushes with huge bulbs of petaled flowers hanging as heavily as fruit.

'How did we get into the greenhouse?' Jacci asked, taking his hand and spelling out her question. It was enough to snap Ben out of his awe. There hadn't been any large windows or glass walls before they'd crawled their way in. And yet, there was plenty of light pouring into the room from the ceiling and windows. It had to be coming from somewhere.

"What're these things doing in here?" Ouduar also asked, but his question seemed to be directed at nobody in particular as he was poking at a spiked plant that seemed small and normal-looking compared to the exotic fare of the rest of the greenhouse.

"Gornash grew that." Ben was quite confident that he wasn't the only one who jumped when he heard that. When he looked behind them, there was Haid, sitting prim and proper in a chair with legs attached to it, watching them all with a patient smile as though she'd known all along that they were nearby, "It's one of the herbs he uses in Shaku-sama's tea."

Ouduar promptly got to his feet, clearly perturbed that he hadn't known they were being watched. Jacci squeezed Ben's hand tighter, not looking anywhere near Haid until the lady had retreated, her chair's legs moving her backwards and then, sauntering off and hiding behind a cluster of potted bushes that might have been flowering or might have just had oddly colored leaves.

"Well, at least we're hiding in the same room as her – that's what we were aiming for, right?" Ben offered, hopefully. Ouduar didn't reply, sitting down and pulling out a death stick, "And don't light that up – we're in a greenhouse, the Countess would kill you if there was smoke in here."

If Jacci was bothered anymore by the disturbance, she didn't act like it, because she gestured for Ouduar and Ben to pay attention as she let go of Ben's hand to 'speak' properly.

'Ben, you know about Uncle Ouduar and I, right?' She asked. Ben blinked at her, looking between her and Ouduar for a few moments, unsure how to answer that question, 'About things that we went through before we met you.' Jacci then clarified.

"Um..." Ben stammered, but stopped when he saw the look on Ouduar's face. The older boy was suddenly looking very hard at Jacci's hands.

'You know about things like Ouduar living on the streets or how I was bullied or things like that, right?' Jacci pressed. This, Ben couldn't help but blink at her. How she'd realized that he'd seen those things – especially when he wasn't sure how he'd done it – was completely beyond him.

Jacci was still grinning, as though she knew by Ben's reaction that she was right.

"Well... I kinda figured some things out... I don't really KNOW that much..." Ben mumbled, but Jacci didn't seem to think much of this explanation.

'You found out when we'd been kidnapped about what I'd been through growing up, and after you and Uncle Ouduar came to visit me after my surgery, you learned something about him. After those points, you started acting differently towards the both of us. And, besides...' Jacci stopped using her finger language and simply tapped her forefinger against her temple, then touched it to Ben's.

Oh, yeah. He'd forgotten that she'd been connected to him through that whole thing with the Gorog. And, Ben supposed, having had a kidney transplant might have done something to that bond. Jacci had just never really showed it off, before this.

"...Well..." Ben mumbled, but Jacci cut him off.

'Maybe you could find out about Auntie Haid.' She suggested. Ben blinked at her.

So... Jacci wanted him to, even though he had no idea how he'd done it, see into Haid's past and find something out about her the same way he'd seen Jacci's and Ouduar's pasts. Ben opened his mouth to tell her all the problems with this plan of action.

'You can do it.' Jacci said before he could offer any protests, 'The whole thing where you can feel that must come from your empathy and holding hands with people. That's what happened when you found out with Uncle Ouduar and myself.'

And, now that Ben thought about it, Jacci was right. How she'd figured it out before he had, he'd never understand. But it was something to consider.

"So... You don't know?" Ben finally managed to ask. Jacci pulled a face.

'Auntie Haid doesn't tell us kids about it.' Jacci explained. Ben glanced towards Ouduar, whom apparently had been following along while pretending that he hadn't been 'listening'.

"That musician thinks we're too young to understand what she's been through." Now that got Ben's interest. While he was sure Haid would not have put it like that, Ben still knew that Ouduar had grown up eating out of other people's trash. What could be worse than that? And what was so bad that an adult, whom had to know about what they'd been through, would say she didn't want to tell Ouduar or Jacci because they wouldn't understand? For that matter, if Haid felt the need to keep it to herself, why was Jacci suddenly showing interest in this that she wanted Ben to go and ask?

'I have my reasons.' Jacci spelled on his fingers, answering Ben's unspoken question of why Jacci would want him to do this.

Ben gave a determined nod, now just as curious as Jacci and Ouduar were. He took a deep breath, trying to feel like he was braver than he was – and braver than he needed to be to just talk to Haid – and went in the direction they'd seen Haid's chair disappear in.

She was sitting by a selection of empty pots and several watering cans. A mound of bags filled with soil were propped against the wall. A box of any number of pieces of refuse were next to the bags of soil – during his stay in the House, he'd seen it once and the Countess had called it a 'compost pile' – and Haid's chair was resting on the floor, legs folded up, immediately next to a shelf that was loaded with sets of seeds and bulbs, each clearly labeled in that same strange writing that Ben had seen on books in the library.

"Um... Miss Haid..." Ben began, suddenly nervous. Haid was scanning a book that, to Ben's uneducated eyes, looked like just some poetry. But what did he care about that?

"You want to know about my past." She said, not looking up from her reading. Ben stopped short, not entirely sure what to say to that.

"Um... well..." How did she know was his first question, but, thinking about it, he could assume that she'd been able to hear them. With that in mind, Ben could quickly figure out how she'd been able to tell what Jacci had been bugging him to do. Still, knowing that didn't make it any less awkward.

Haid set her book to the side. Ben couldn't help but notice that there was a pile of them, sorted into two stacks, as though to say 'I've already read this one' and 'Still needs to be read'.

How he could tell that was how they were sorted, Ben was completely lost.

"It's alright." Haid spoke softly. It was the kind of voice that, had she been sitting on a divan or couch of sorts, Ben suspected she might have patted the seat beside her and invited him to sit. As it was, it was just a very comforting sort of voice.

A comforting voice that, for some reason, made him feel incredibly unsettled. Ben would have to ponder on that one, later.

"Uh..." Ben really wished he could say more than 'Um' or 'Uh'. As if he wasn't uncomfortable enough around Haid, he now felt like a complete idiot and child (well, alright, he was a kid) compared to her. It seemed to be made even worse by the fact that she wasn't saying anything about it and, for whatever reason, he just knew she wasn't deliberately treating him like one, she wasn't acting in that 'Oh, you're just a kid and I should humor you like a responsible adult' attitude he felt from many people, she didn't condescend...

Haid was smiling. It wasn't one meant to insult, or as though she were laughing at him. It was a smile that, for whatever reason, Ben felt like he'd seen it before.

"Shaku-sama's orders are to treat you as respected more than we regard Shaku-sama." Haid finally said, making a gesture towards the space next to her, as though she wanted Ben to make himself comfortable. Never mind that it was an empty space next to her.

Ben pulled up a flowerpot. It seemed the best way to interpret her gesture, rather than standing by, awkwardly. And, of course, the whole secret she'd just revealed about the Countess' orders... It certainly gave new perspective to how Ouduar had said about his instructions from the Countess.

It also meant, strange as it seemed, that Haid intended to share something with him, even though she'd never told another member of the Household.

"...Miss Haid..." Ben started, more than a little uneasy with what he might hear.

"It's hard for me to really remember much from my childhood." Haid finally said, quietly. Her voice seemed to take on a new tone, one that Ben had never heard from her. It was... shy? No, that wasn't quite the word. Anxious? Afraid? Timorous? Insecure?

"...It's okay..." Ben found himself quick to reassure her, despite his own misgivings. Why? Why was it 'okay'? And why was he so eager to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable around him?

"I only remember bits and pieces... I was only a small child before anything happened that I remember." Haid finally said. Timid. That was the word for her voice, for her manner, for how she was speaking, "...I remember little things from when I was young. I remember that I once went through my father's wardrobe and tried to dress myself in one of his suits... but I was so small and didn't even know how to dress myself in my own clothes that all I managed was one of his shirts and it was so long that I tripped on it, and seeing my mother reading her books, or my parents trying to cook dinner, together..."

Compared to all the things he'd seen about Haid, thus far, Ben couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She looked so upset at the idea of telling these tiny, intimate details to a complete stranger. Her voice grew softer and softer at the mention of every syllable as though she worried that sharing the detail might part her from her memories, forever.

"How did you come to live with the Countess, anyway?" Ben asked. He had only just realized that, for the facts that he did know about Haid, it was never very clear how she'd come to the House. She'd said her mother had been a slave, but her father had freed her mother, but then the Countess had purchased Haid... how did all that work, anyway?

Haid was silent for a long time as she pulled on a loose thread protruding from the edge of her sleeve. The wrinkled, cinched cuffs of them poked out from a loose drape of dark purple that hung around her shoulders and wrapped around her waist, all layered over a blue and cream dress that was flowing and pleated. There was embroidery on the cuffs of her sleeves and along the border of the wrap that was so tiny and tightly stitched, Ben wouldn't have realized it was sewn on if Haid hadn't started picking at the threads. It reeked of simple elegance, but was also plainly intricate – a far cry from the dresses Jacci used to wear, which had all been overflowing with lace, ruffles, and bows as though trying to compensate for her being too young to wear something that really was fancy.

It took a few long moments of silence before it occurred to Ben that, perhaps, Haid wasn't even really sure what her own status was. Before he could think of how to properly go back and apologize for asking an awkward question – which, to his mind wasn't awkward at all, but how was he supposed to know if there was some courtesy he was overstepping – Haid started to speak again.

"My father was murdered." Her voice was so tiny that Ben almost missed it. Each letter came out with a frightened tremor, and almost immediately, Ben wished he hadn't let himself get talked into this. He looked back over his shoulder, hoping that he'd see Jacci or Ouduar watching to give him some sort of cue, but there was nobody in sight. Swallowing hard, Ben uncomfortably put out a hand and rested it on the armrest of Haid's chair.

"...I'm sorry." He mumbled. Haid shook her head, causing a patch of loose hair to slide over her shoulder with a rustle.

"I didn't know what it was about – I was too little at the time – but I looked into the room from the closet door, saw my father arguing with this man with a blaster in his hand, and before I knew what had happened, the man shot my father. I was too terrified to even scream, I couldn't move until the man was gone, after he and another man went through my father's library... If I'd only gone out, if I'd tried to yell for my mother... maybe my father wouldn't have..." Haid's hands froze, her fingers pressed tightly together. It was like she wanted to squeeze something or clench them into fists, but was also trying to control herself from doing even that.

"What if that man had shot you, too?" Ben asked, grateful that he could at least say something. It felt like something his Uncle Han might say, and to be able to think like that made him feel a little proud, or at the least, less out of place.

"I know..." She agreed, "I've thought about that many times... but I also can't help but wonder what if he would have left me alive, if only because I was a child? I don't think I'll ever find out."

Inwardly, Ben figured he should try to steer the topic to some other point than a murdered father, but he honestly couldn't think of how.

"After that day... my mother and I did what we could to put him to rest... and then, in a months time, a fleet landed and found us, trapped in our house... mother asked for their protection, but one of the men saw she was a Twi'lek, and that I was her daughter..." Haid's voice was shaking. Since that was obviously not doing either of them any good, Ben finished her thought before she had to talk about any details.

"So, they took you prisoner and sold you as slaves." Haid swallowed a little. Then, to Ben's surprise, she reached into the folds of her dress's blouse and pulled something back out – a small bottle, no bigger than her own thumb, with a tiny white pill inside and a clear etching of some kind of symbol scratched onto the bottle's glass.

"My mother gave this to me one night. She made my hair into a knot and hid it inside, and told me...

"'Haid, if you ever think your captors might abuse you or are considering selling you for that purpose, swallow this.'

"'Rather than let them have their way, show them you have control of your own destiny. I'd rather have you come to me and your father by your own hand than because they've tormented you to it.'"

One of Haid's fingers traced the edge of the symbol etched on the bottle.

"I should have known..." She murmured, "...After what they did to her... I should have realized she was only giving me this because she'd already swallowed the other dose... The next morning, our captors came in, and saw her dead on the floor, and then dragged her body out. The last I saw of my mother's face, her eyes were closed and peaceful, and all the color had drained out of her skin and lekku..."

Ben now really, really wished he hadn't asked. Uneasily, he looked back over his shoulder, now able to see that Ouduar and Jacci were peeking through branches of a potted tree, both of their mouths hanging open. He gave a shrug, to which Ouduar shrugged helplessly back and Jacci gave him a wave of the hand, as though to say 'Well? Aren't you going to say SOMEthing?'

When Ben turned back, Haid still seemed rather lost in her own thoughts.

"Why didn't you run away?" Ben finally asked. Haid's head jerked up, as though apologetic that she'd forgotten he was there. And then, to answer her question, she reached for the hem of her skirt and pulled it up to reveal her ankles. From where Ben was sitting, he could see two puncture marks on the front and back of her ankle.

"Something they did to keep us from running to keep us from being able to walk." Haid said these words with a rueful smile, "I'm not even able to stand on my own... but I suppose I have to be grateful for that. Because of this, they couldn't sell me as a dancer or a customary slave, and in the end, that was why I was sold to a factory. If it hadn't been that..." She trailed into silence and Ben knew what she meant. That if it hadn't been for her placement in that factory, the Countess might never have found her.

Hey... that was a thought...

"Have you ever asked the Countess to fix your legs?" Ben asked, "I mean, you know about how Jacci used to have problems all the time, but I asked to help and I was able to give her a kidney. Hey, Jacci, get over here and tell her!" Ben hadn't needed to really say anything, because Jacci had taken it on herself to drag Ouduar over, hearing the story, "I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard, and she would do it if you just asked..."

"Yes, I heard the story from Gornash." Haid agreed, pleasantly, before turning fully and smiling much more naturally, "Shaku-sama and Jacci-shaku must be very important to you for you to do this."

Ben stopped talking as he felt his face heat up. Well, yes it was true but that didn't mean he wanted someone to just come right out and SAY it – that was embarrassing. Not to mention that it was pretty obvious how he thought of Jacci, but the Countess... well, Ben had always just hoped nobody would ever ask. Ben stammered for a second or two until Haid gently quieted him.

"Gornash told me you actually slapped Shaku-sama. Any other person, and they wouldn't be alive to talk about it." She continued, "But you... actually wanted to prove that there was still hope." And it's not like Ben really wanted to hear someone just be able to figure it out, just like that.

"Well, that's... uh..." And Ben really wished he could stop stammering when Haid caught him off-guard. And, while he was at it, the way Haid wouldn't stop smiling – it didn't matter if it sometimes looked strained or melancholy, it still counted – was starting to get creepy.

"My place in the Household is to serve Shaku-sama. The only use I have is to do what will make her happy." Ben stopped stammering and carefully examined Haid's face. She might have been smiling, serenely, but there was something off in the words she used. What it was, though, he couldn't tell, "If keeping things the way they are is what helps, then that is my purpose."

Haid turned back to the files she'd been reading, as though to say she wasn't going to say anything more, but Ben was welcome to make whatever comment he pleased. Uncomfortable with the talk, Ben turned to Jacci and Ouduar, both of whom looked utterly baffled at what Haid had said. If they had any ideas of what to say to her, they didn't seem able to articulate them.

Finally, with a sigh, Ben glanced back at Haid.

"Y'know..." He said, mumbling but then starting to muster a little more courage as Haid gave him an inquisitive, wide-eyed glance, "...She might be happy if you only just asked. You never know..."

That was as far as Ben got because, at that moment, there was a rattle that could only have come from a door opening. Haid raised her head in the direction of the noise, while Jacci, this time panicked, grabbed Ben's shoulder and made a mad dash for cover. Ouduar went willingly and they all only just managed to get their heads ducked behind several stacks of flowerpots when they heard the Countess' voice.

"Haid?" Ben tucked his knees up and glanced at Jacci, whom was now looking most unhappy that they were in this room, "You haven't seen Jacci and Ouduar, have you?" He had to resist the urge to look over the stack of pots and see what Haid and the Countess were doing.

"Jacci-shaku and Ouduar? No, I'm afraid I haven't." When Ben met Jacci's eyes this time, she flashed him a grin, as though to say 'Told you Auntie Haid wouldn't tell', "Whyever do you ask?"

"I just received a message from Master Skywalker. Apparently, his son has gone missing, again." Oh, great. Ben should have guessed that his parents would start looking, eventually.

"Oh my. Surely, you don't think Sieur Ben and Jacci-shaku are together somewhere?" Haid managed to sound incredibly concerned.

"Well, those three little musketeers did go missing at the same time..." The Countess mused, as though this puzzle was causing her a great deal of strain to figure out.

"You don't suspect they might be hiding, do you?"

"It's logical."

"Perhaps you think they might be hiding in this very room?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Maybe you were thinking they were close at hand... behind the flowerpots, for example?" Haid was using a tone of voice that seemed to say 'You don't really think that, do you?'

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. I'm sure it's nothing so contrived." And the Countess was now using a voice that had gone from light concern to mocking pretense. It made Ben cringe, just knowing that she was deliberately pretending that she had no idea.

"I'm sure they're not getting into any trouble. After all, Jacci-shaku and Sieur Ben both know how much you and Master Skywalker would worry if anything happened to them." Haid continued in that sincere, I'm-clueless-really-I-am voice. Which, of course, just made Ben squirm, and he knew that was exactly why the two of them were doing this. It also didn't help matters that Ouduar was sneering and pointing at him and Jacci, as though he wanted to just burst out laughing and Jacci was signing for him to shut up.

"Well, if they do turn up... from behind the flowerpots, for example..." The Countess continued, in that deliberately ironic voice, "Do be sure to remind them their families are very concerned and want to spend some time with them." And there was the guilt card. Ben felt his face growing very, very hot.

"Of course I will." There was a set of steps, the clicking that could only be connected with the Countess's shoes, before Ben heard, "Shaku-sama."

The clicking from the Countess's shoes stopped.

"Yes, Haid?"

Ben sat up a little and craned his neck to find an opening and peek between the pots.

"Later tonight, might I speak to you about something?"

There was the clicking of the Countess's shoes, again.

"Of course. I always have time for you, Haid." Ben found a gap between the pots, just in time to see the Countess gently tracing the side of Haid's face, then pulling up to kiss her forehead. Ben blinked a few times, confused. When the Countess turned her back and fully left the room, Haid remained in that position, as though she hadn't realized her mistress was gone from the room.

The silence was then promptly broken by Ouduar bursting out into laughter, completely unswayed when Jacci threw a punch at his face.

A/N: I'm so sorry it took this long. I really, truly am. But... well, there are many parts that, if you can't tell, I had to have some assistance from Mister Vodka to get down. I promise, I will finish this, if it kills me. But... well... like I said, it's hard.


	29. Part III: Chapter 4

CMC: Schadenfruede

By: Sapadu

A/N: Okay... I'm going to make myself a pledge: I will post by the end of June. I don't care how far I've gotten the chapter. I will. I will, I will, I will...

...Now, watch me fail.

Chapter 4:

_It was a factory, just like any other. She sat in front of the machine, steadily feeding in the cloth that was moved down to her. It was a simple job, but not simple. One that couldn't have been by a pair of droid hands, but that didn't need a real brain to complete. Just a pair of hands._

_So, she was the hands. She and several other dozen girls._

_The air was hot, and when she breathed, she felt her mouth and nose filling up with the dust. All of it seemed to press on her. It almost felt like even the joints in her fingers or the creases in her ears were filled up with dust. It was on her like a second layer of skin._

_Her hair had to be short, too. It was cropped around her oddly shaped head – one that didn't have proper lekku, even for her age, but one that wasn't the perfect round of a Human – and left like a wild mane. Last week, one of the other girls – a full-blood Human – had fallen asleep on top of her designated machine. Her hair had been too long, and a stray clump fell into the still spinning gears. Haid and all the other girls were woken up by her screaming, and to the sight of half her scalp red and dripping blood._

_That girl was gone now. And, any day now, she might be next. And that would be all._

_She was not needed, not beyond a pair of hands. Hands could be discarded, then replaced. Just as she had been._

_There were supervisors, but they were only rare. After all, it wasn't like any of them could run. And what was there to do while trapped on this seat, but the work she was given? It really was the only reason a supervisor ever came by, if you didn't do your work or meet your quota._

"_Those are nice hands you've got." Only one ever said that. She kept picking up her cloth and running it through the machine. She had to meet this quota. That was all – focus on the quota. That number off in the distance, that replenished everyday and never disappeared._

"_Let's see you use one." A giant hand gripped around her wrist and pulled it away. Now, she only had one hand to do her job. It was suddenly many times harder._

"_Yeah... that's right..." Her fingers barely missed the machine – if they had been a centimeter closer, one of them could have been punctured or run right off. She pretended her other hand was numb, so she couldn't feel anything with it._

_She didn't feel anything, at all. She was numb. She was just a pair of hands. And hands had no place to feel or think._

_When her other hand was released, she went back to work, not caring what she touched._

_It was like this everyday – the hands did their work, then rested, met their quota, then rested, picked up one piece of cloth, ran it through the machine, one after another, then rested. This pair of hands had never belonged to anyone else. Never had anyone else. Never known anything but this work. There was no need for memories, or grieving, or bitterness, or regret._

_These hands did not hope. This was all they knew._

_Until, one day, she heard a supervisor come up behind her –_

"_Stop what you're doing."_

_The hands stopped their repetitive, ritualistic movement. She left her work, for just a moment. She kept staring at it, waiting for the moment to return. After all, she was just a pair of hands, and that was all hands were good for – just doing their work._

_Something drifted before her face. A new hand. This one, it was covered in a black glove. The fingers were long, but slender. The palm was tiny – as though it were made of something fragile and artificial. It was almost like a child's hand, but with the sureness and strength of an adult._

_And those fingers were soft and gentle as they rested on her chin. As they tugged, and, with a magnetic force, made her head turn._

_There was a new face, gazing down at her. It was a face that was as white as bone, as white as frost, framed by long, dark hair, and with a kind of black hat perched on the top. She wasn't even sure it was a face. It looked like something unnatural – like something sculpted, like a piece of machinery that was just meant to resemble Human features – let alone like it might be a man or a woman._

_Her hands lifted. These hands needed something to do. They needed to protect her. They needed to keep her from whatever this other thing wanted. Her fingers clutched around the vial that hung around her neck._

_(if you ever think they might abuse you swallow this)_

_There was something her hands were meant to do. They would do this, and then, they would be discarded._

_The face moved. It was changing, changing to something she could recognize. It was now smiling at her. Yes, it was a face. And it was smiling._

_The owner of the face bent and she suddenly wasn't looking up, anymore. The owner had lowered that face to the floor, the hat on top had come off and was pressed against it's chest, also completely in black. It was probably a boy – not a man, but a boy – and then the face looked back up. One of those gloved hands extended in her direction. Just like with her chin, her hands moved. One loosened from the vial, and moved through the air, as though weightlessly flying, and softly landed in the cupped fingers of the glove._

_As though her hand was no longer part of her arm, it was pulled towards that smiling face. The gloved fingers squeezed hers like a caress, and cradled their tips in the well of that small, strangely unreal palm._

"_I do believe you are similar to me, young one." The smile whispered. It was a soft voice. A sweet voice. A voice unlike any she remembered hearing in a long, long time. Those gloved hands pulled her hand towards the smile, and those lips softly pressed against her fingers._

_The same fingers that, just a few days ago, had been forced to touch very different Human flesh. The thought sent a jolt up through her fingertips, through her arm, into her shoulder, and electrified every inch of her body. It was all one piece, now – from her head to her feet – and her eyes in her eye sockets in her skull, which rested on her shoulders, now saw the boy who knelt before her. All in black, with silver buttons running on both sides of the breast, and a long black cape draped over his shoulders._

_She shuddered, letting the boy all in black handle her with that gentle care. There was another person, this one in a less handsome black and white with white hair conversing with the sagging sack that had told her to stop working. She suddenly took in all of the machines that were spinning all around her and the other girls sitting at them, steadily working to meet their quotas and produce a steady stream of clothes._

_And this had been surrounding her for however many years, now. She hadn't been even aware she'd been pretending._

_The boy in black reached up and ran one of those slender fingers along her chin. It was such a gentle touch, she didn't think she'd felt anything quite like it. It was as though those fingers were asking her if she wanted her freedom, and without even needing to move or respond, they understood her response._

"_Gornash, pay the gentleman, if you please." The boy said, rising from his knee and taking her hand, still in both of his, with him, "Can you walk, little one?"_

_She shook her head. Suddenly, she realized that the hair upon her head was a part of her, as it brushed her cheeks, rough and uneven. The boy gestured and took both her hands in his, before stooping to secure them around his shoulders. As the boy's cloak swirled around her, enveloping her like an immortal creature's majestic wings, her whole body shuddered and shrunk to fit into his arms._

"_You're sure you want that one? Not gonna be much use, 'cept if you wanna keep her as a dipping bowl." She heard the supervisor say, not fully comprehending the words. She had done so for so long, it only seemed right._

"_Quite sure. Thank you for your input. I shall put the information to good use." The boy intoned. She could feel his arms shaking as he carried her. And before she'd had a chance to look back, the boy and his companion had carried her clear out of the factory._

_The whole next day was something unlike that which she had lived through in years. There were other people waiting, a whole different house, and treatment she hadn't expected from anyone, let alone a complete stranger like the boy who'd taken her out of the factory, presumably as a slave._

_It was only at her first meal in this new place that the reality set in. She had been purchased – there was no question about that – which could only mean that she was now the property of that boy all in black. That could only mean, at the end of the day, that she was now a pair of hands to be used by this person._

_What else could be the reason she had been bathed, polished, groomed, and primped? Now, of course, she found herself seated before a table completely to herself, with several dishes that she hadn't seen before. She was only interrupted from thinking further about the matter when the tall man with the white hair came into the room, carrying a tray in one hand and a chair in the other._

_And the boy in black was following him. Nothing but black, save for the silver piping around his collar and sleeves. Now that she saw him in daylight, she wasn't even sure it was a boy – the face had slipped back to that odd stillness that could only be a being not of this world. Whatever this person was, she was fairly certain it was neither a boy nor a girl._

_The person in black sat next to her, in the chair that the tall man had brought in. Then, the tall man went about pouring something into two cups. One was given to the person in black. The other was set in front of her, next to the food._

"_You have not touched a drop. Are you not feeling well?" The person in black asked, swirling the contents of their cup. She shrugged. The person in black didn't react nearly as she would have thought, "Would you care to tell me what troubles you?"_

_This was odd. She hadn't been invited to speak, before, let alone to complain._

_She wasn't going to complain. But she was confused._

"_What am I to do?" She finally asked. She knew that she was meant to be used – there was a word for that, but she didn't know what it was, but she was sure that's what she was. She might as well know and accept it._

_The person in black lifted their cup and began to sip. Surely they were a real person, if they were drinking from a cup like that, but what they were, she still wasn't sure._

"_For now, I should rather you stay healthy." That voice was certainly light enough. Perhaps this person was a woman, after all._

"_Why?" She asked. After all, she was just going to be a pair of hands, again. Used, then discarded. What difference did it make if she were healthy or not?_

_The person – woman, it must be a woman – in black set down her cup._

"_First things first – what is your name, child?" She blinked. She knew what a name was but..._

_Had she forgotten it? How could a mere pair of hands have a name?_

"_...You do not have one, is that right?" The woman in black surmised, "Because you are not a being that has a name – simply a tool. Tools have no names."_

_She couldn't think what to say to that. Or how this woman had just known._

"_Is that not what you are wondering, yourself?" One of those hands, again in black gloves, reached over and ran a slender finger through the hair that rested against her cheek._

_She nodded. The woman in black lowered her hand again and gestured for one of her hands. The gloved hands wrapped around hers, as though they were made of something other than flesh. She would have thought those black gloved hands would be warm, but they seemed to emanate coolness, like icy porcelain._

"_But suppose I told you that I have no intention of using or discarding you?" The woman in black finally said._

_She blinked._

"_I was once told that living beings cannot be discarded – to try is to forget the difference between a person and a tool." The fingertips of those black gloves ran between her fingers and along the edge of her palm, "So, with that said, what name should I call you?"_

_What name? What name had been hers? It was something long, she remembered..._

_(...eeranf...)_

"_...I don't remember..."_

"_A common enough problem." The woman in black agreed, picking her cup back up, "You shall find you are not the first, nor the last member of this Household whose real name may be lost to them. Is that not right, Gornash?"_

_The tall man with white hair nodded, apparently content to stay in the background._

"_Now... we would all be willing to make room in our Household for you..." The woman in black said, "The rest would be up to you."_

_She looked back at the food on the tray. A pair of hands didn't need to eat. A pair of hands didn't need to stay healthy. It didn't matter for a pair of hands. Not for a tool._

_But, if she were a person... more than a pair of hands, more than a tool... a member of this Household... if she were a member of this Household, then she would be something other than a tool..._

_(...aideera...)_

_If she were a person, she couldn't be discarded... if she couldn't be discarded, she could be a person... which way did it work? How did it work?_

_(haideer...)_

"_Haid." She finally said. The woman in black set down her cup, again, her face now a little more real. Now, it was definitely something real, but Haid couldn't tell if it was a woman's face or the boy's face she'd seen the day before. But what did it matter, in the end? "...For now, that's the name I can remember."_

_The person – they were a person, for sure. What kind of person, Haid could not say – in black smiled. It was the first time in many years that Haid had seen a real smile. The first time in many years she'd seen a real person, as a real person. It was the very start of seeing the whole world as real, once more._

"_Well, my lovely Selle Haid." The person in black said, "I am known as the CMC. Is there any name you wish to call me?"_

_The title did seem to mean something. What it meant, she couldn't tell, but there was a word that certainly suited this person. Haid would have to learn where it came from, but she knew he wanted it to be for this person._

"_...Shaku-sama... would that be alright?" The person in black – Shaku-sama. Her Shaku-sama – simply smiled and pushed a bowl on the table towards her. It was filled with simple broth, and hardly any smell emanated from it. When she picked the bowl up, it was icy cold._

_But the broth that touched her lips was thick and savory. She might as well have never eaten before, in her life, and this was the moment when she began to live._

"_...It's good."_

* * *

"Haid?" Her head jerked up, awakening her from her reverie. Tilus' head was resting on her lap, his sagging, beady eyes gazing up at her. Haid smiled thinly back, resting a hand on Tilus' ruddy head.

"What's wrong, Tilus? Are you feeling sick, again?" She asked, smoothing the wrinkles around Tilus' neck – they always itched and grew irritated, especially in the summer heat.

"No..." Tilus mumbled, turning his face into her skirt.

Haid let out a low breath, like a sigh that hadn't yet ripened.

"What'd little Skywalker say to you when he came, today?" Tilus finally asked. Now, sigh in full bloom, Haid released it from her lips. She had known the question was coming. After all, she had no secrets from Tilus – well, save maybe one night, but that was her Shaku-sama's secret. She merely kept it for her Master, as was her duty.

"We spoke. That's all." She replied. Besides, Tilus already knew everything that she and Ben-shaku had been talking about. He had been nearby, listening, out of sight.

"He had to have said something. You're gonna ask Excellency for surgery, even though it's 'Not your place to ask Shaku-sama for anything' – why'd you do that unless someone'd talked you into it?"

Haid didn't see the logic to this – after all, it would be wicked of her to accept orders, or even advice, from anyone other than Shaku-sama. It was her place to belong to her Master – that was, after all, the definition of a slave.

"I'm not asking to receive anything." She gently rebutted Tilus, "Merely for the resources to be useful to the fullest extent."

That was, after all, her place. She should accept it as such.

Tilus groaned, again burying his face in her skirt. His meaty hands clutched the fabric, interrupting the pattern, and clenching and unclenching over and over in the same pace as his breathing kept slowing and quickening.

"I hate it when you do that." He mumbled. Haid folded her hands over one of his fists, easing it to relaxation.

"I would feel uncomfortable asking for anything of Shaku-sama, anyway, even if I hadn't been bought into the Household." She knew she was misreading Tilus' statement, but that mattered little to her at present. After all, she'd already imposed on Tilus enough – it would be unfair to make him even more uncomfortable.

"When you talk about yourself as being USED." Tilus growled, very obviously agitated, "It isn't right. And you just talk like it's the natural order of things, like it's no big deal."

Haid ran her hand over Tilus' round forearm.

"It's better to be used than to be discarded." She replied, quietly.

Tilus didn't reply, especially as the door to the room opened and her Excellency entered. Just as Haid had requested.

"Now, Haid – I hope nothing is wrong that you wished to inform me of, this evening." The Countess commented, setting down a large stack of documents on the desk in the room.

"Not at all." Tilus sat up and straightened, especially as Haid lifted the hem of her skirt from the floor. The scars at the very tops of her feet stood out, like tattoos on their own. But everyone present in the room knew fully well what they were, and what they meant.

* * *

Jacen groaned. After months and months of background checks and tracing accounts, and he had nothing to show for it. This damned Countess was starting to look more and more like she'd appeared at first glance – an airheaded, useless aristocrat with exceptionally bad luck to be at the center of any number of awful and mysterious coincidences.

But that was impossible – if he just gave up and supposed that every oddity and freakish incident had only occurred by random chance surrounding the Countess, that would be as good as giving into superstition. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this.

...Whatever 'This' was.

"Hello, Jacen." He snapped back into reality and looked for whoever was speaking to him. After all, he would have noticed someone he knew just coming up to him, out of the blue.

Thus, he jumped quite badly when he realized he was staring the speaker straight in the face. A young woman with a fierce gaze, but whose nondescript clothes and the wrap around her hair did enough to distort any perception of her, that it took Jacen several minutes before he recognized Tenel Ka Djo. But, surely enough, those were her gray eyes boring into his, and it was even plainer when he noticed that, despite wearing an ill-fitting tunic shirt that would have been better for a menial factory worker, there was no mistaking that one sleeve dangled, loosely, without an arm to fill it.

His jaw dropped open, quite against his will, and he found himself without words for several moments before Tenel Ka just reached out and pushed on his chin.

"...Hello." He finally managed, "...Can't say I expected to see you around here..."

"I know. It's called the element of surprise." She curtly replied. Jacen resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Do you know anywhere we could get a caf or something?"

Now, Jacen openly let his exasperation show.

"That's not how normal people talk, you know."

"Oh, shut up, and do you know anywhere that we can talk without being heard?"

A few minutes later found them inside Jacen's rented room, and his unofficial headquarters for his personal investigation of the CMC. It could have been worse, if he weren't suddenly so taken aback by, not only Tenel Ka suddenly showing up, but doing so in perfect anonymity – no guards, no announcement, no nothing. It didn't seem possible – preposterous, actually, to think that the Queen Mother of Hapes could slip onto Coruscant as a civilian and not be noticed – but she'd done it.

"So... To what do I owe the..." Jacen paused, remembering the last time they'd seen each other – yeah, his family had been dealing with psychic bugs, the galaxy was on the verge of war, his cousin Ben had been kidnapped... and he'd gone to Hapes, supposedly for a fleet to transport these said psychic bugs and in the end... well... "...Pleasure... of seeing you here?"

Tenel Ka took a seat without being invited, and proceeded to run through a number of meditative exercises. This just made Jacen more nervous – she'd always been in very strict control of her moods, but he didn't think he'd ever seen her at these exercises to keep them under control. And, to make it worse, when Tenel Ka finally opened her eyes, the first thing she said was:

"Jacen, what I'm about to tell you is extremely important that it remains a secret." Oh joy.

"I don't think I'd have anyone to tell, even if I wanted to, at this point." He pointed out, knowing full well that it was his own damn fault he'd gotten rather distant from his family, lately. Tenel Ka shot him a disapproving glance, but didn't say anything – presumably because she knew Jacen well enough to know he wouldn't talk about a big secret, and she was in that much of a hurry.

"I've come to Coruscant, anonymously, in need of political asylum." She said, so blunt and so unlike herself that Jacen found himself wishing he HADN'T bumped into her. But, that was pretty wishful thinking – she had found him for a reason, "I have very good reason and sufficient evidence to believe that a different party in the court is attempting to re-take the throne."

Re-take?

"Your grandmother?" He asked. This came as no real surprise, honestly.

"I'd expected some kind of insurgency or coup from her – you know her history on this score. And, besides that, I've been aware that more than a few of my ministers don't approve of their Queen Mother being a part of the Jedi Order. I've got divided loyalties on my hands, and someone clever enough to make trouble without getting caught."

To her credit, Tenel Ka didn't sound terribly distressed, but there was a look in her eyes that, had Jacen not known her as well, he might have missed. There was still something serious enough to warrant real concern.

"So, what else is new?" He finally asked. Tenel Ka gave him a Look, then proceeded to answer his question literally.

"This time, there have been more... disturbing things happening in court." She started, "I've had nobles acting completely out of character for their own positions, suspicious money flow, a handful of new factions forming before being discovered, several ministers enforcing laws that I hadn't even signed into creation, and..." Tenel Ka paused, swallowed what sounded like a lump in her throat, and then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "...There have been more deaths in the court in the last few months than I think even my grandmother could have planned. Some 'accidents', some poisonings, some fights that resulted in mortal injuries, some blatant assassinations... but more than anything, most of the nobles and ministers I've had loyal to me have died for no reason, at all."

Jacen considered this.

"How?" He finally asked.

"Some, for no apparent reason. But there have been some who committed suicide. And most of them are particularly disturbing scenes."

That sounded vaguely familiar.

"So, you think that all of these events are linked and that the former Queen Mother is behind them, somehow..." Jacen surmised, then, resigned, cut to the question that had been bothering him so far, "With all due respect, why come to me? Why not let your secret police or security handle it?" In all honesty, he had a vague idea – perhaps Tenel Ka suspected that this might be too much for them to handle, or even her on her own. And, if Jacen was right in his suspicions of who had prompted this turn of events, he supposed she was right.

"Several reasons." Tenel Ka replied, now looking away, towards the windows. The light from between the blinds streamed in and highlighted her sharply frowning brow, made her hair gleam, illuminated the lines around her lips.

Jacen also looked away – he had the feeling that if he didn't, he'd end up staring and not hearing a damn thing she was saying.

"I needed it to be you, particularly – I know that I can both trust you and depend on you." She said, in that blunt, direct way, as though she were more commanding these traits from Jacen instead of stating what she thought, "And I needed to see you for this, anyway. Close those blinds."

It was such a non-sequitur that Jacen took a moment to process it, then finally did force himself to move. With a press of the button, the blinds closed, completely. And when he turned back around, Tenel Ka had risen from her seat and begun to undo the sash around her waist.

The baggy, undignified tunic top fell open, aided by Tenel Ka's large, gloved hand. Jacen found his eyes traveling down her body, first to the heavy breasts that she sported over a hard musculature –

(he knew they were even softer to the touch)

– and down to her abdomen, which had been hidden by the drab, civilian clothing, but he could now clearly see was swollen and protruding, so prominently that he knew it wasn't normal.

Oh.

For the second time that day, Jacen found himself struck completely speechless, and in the same company, by the same company, no less. Gaping for words, he lifted a hand, tempted to reach out and stroke that belly, but he stopped at the last minute.

"...Who else knows...?" He hesitantly asked.

"Presently, only myself. My personal physician also knew and promised to keep it confidential, but with everything else going on in court, I have the strong suspicion that my predecessor found out, somehow." Was her answer. From that, Jacen could make an educated guess as to the fate of Tenel Ka's physician, and if the former Queen Mother had somehow gotten the information about Tenel Ka's pregnancy, he supposed it made sense she didn't feel secure in her own court.

"As far as I could see, you had a right to give me your input on this." Tenel Ka continued, pulling her shirt closed, again. This time, Jacen didn't think twice before reaching over and helping her with her sash.

"And you felt the need to tell me in person." He surmised, then had another stroke of realization, "...Because your comm lines might be tapped, or something to that effect?"

"They are rather insecure – I'll admit that I caught my father receiving a number of comms from here, on Coruscant. Because of that, I couldn't be sure I could keep any of my own transmissions private." Tenel Ka agreed, which only made Jacen more confused.

"You couldn't be sure?" He asked. Was he assuming too much? But surely Tenel Ka's strength in the Force would make it child's play to tell these things...

"Jacen..." Tenel Ka took another deep, measured breath, a breath that could only be meant to calm herself and keep her emotions under control, "...I've been losing my touch with the Force."

It would be pertinent to remind our readers now that Jacen was no stranger to isolated incidents of this nature, especially since the CMC and her Household had arrived on Coruscant. We must also remember that he did not yet know of other members of the Jedi Order – including his mother and sister – having similar detachments, either because they had kept their secrets private, or because he had drifted so far apart from the rest of the Order.

Thus, the audience should be understanding that Jacen Solo's reaction was one of deep alarm.

"What?" He found himself standing completely straight up and stiff – as though a puppeteer had suddenly yanked on all of his strings at the same time. Tenel Ka held her composure, much as one would expect from the supreme monarch of Hapes, but it was obvious – especially to Jacen – that she was just as alarmed at the reality behind her confession as he was.

"During the last few months, when all the trouble in the court started..." She clarified, "At first, it was irregular, or little things – I wouldn't be able to use the Force for any Jedi powers, or I would have trouble meditating, but I could still feel it, still sense it. I thought it was just because of the pregnancy – after all, I was able to use it enough to slow the development process for a while, hence why I'm not in the third trimester already..."

She paused, and again took a few more deep breaths. Her voice had begun to shake – whether with anger or anxiety, Jacen couldn't tell, but she was still leagues more composed than he was.

"...But with the most recent months, I've been cut off, completely. It's as though there is nothing there, as though I was never in _touch_, let alone _control_, of the Force by any means. I'm left completely in the dark about the real intentions of anyone close to me, and I have no way of being able to tell anything the way I used to."

At least, it fully explained why Tenel Ka had felt the need to come and ask him for help. If she was in danger – as well as their child – and unable to defend herself from whoever was working behind the scenes to overthrow her in the Hapan Royal Court, that sounded like a very good reason to come to Coruscant and ask for the assistance of fellow Jedi to Jacen.

"So... you wanted my input on what you should do?" He asked. Tenel Ka gave him a glance that might have been withering or disapproving if he weren't a close, personal acquaintance.

"I would think any input of yours would be worthy of consideration." She said, rephrasing it to maintain control. But it was the same effect.

"In that case, my advice would be that you go to the Temple, as a security measure." In all honesty, he was surprised that Tenel Ka hadn't thought of that, on her own, already. Instead, all she did was scowl.

"Oh, yes – when I might have people following me with intent to kill me, nobody will suspect that the Jedi Hapan Queen Mother will be hiding in the Jedi Temple." Jacen scowled right back at her.

"The entirety of the Order is there. If anyone is planning to harm you, they'll have to go through every other Jedi there to do it." It was sound logic – of course it was – how could she possibly object.

Her scowl deepened, this time with an obvious dubiousness.

"Besides, if you're losing your touch with the Force, the first person you should have contacted would be Master Skywalker. He should be informed of this, both as the Grand Master of the Order, and because he was your teacher. This might be something that could affect other Jedi, or he might be able to find out why and help you." It felt awkward to discuss his Uncle Luke in such terms, but... oh well, "And, those two points aside..." Jacen gave Tenel Ka's belly a light pat, "You'll be in need of a physician – and if this is a factor in your Force sense disappearing, or having any other effect on you, I can't imagine finding a better medic than one of the healers in the Temple, itself."

Tenel Ka's frown remained in place, though admittedly lessened quickly.

"Your arguments are not without merit." She conceded, then turning for the door, "I'll head to the Temple, then."

"I'll come with you."

This, of all things, made Tenel Ka pause. Still holding herself straight and severely, she turned to give Jacen an imperious look. For what reason, Jacen couldn't fathom – if anything, it seemed to him like she was angry with him. Resentful, even. A lesser man would have taken this as a reason and opportunity to reconsider his position and rethink what he'd said. As it was, though, Jacen knew better than to back down.

This was important.

"I suddenly warrant a personal escort?" She asked. By all rights, it should have been a statement of humility, but Tenel Ka's authoritative voice made it very clear that she was demanding an explanation of Jacen's change in attitude.

"I need to speak with Master Skywalker about something, myself. And, from my own personal experience, there might be something more at work here – in which case, it would be necessary to reconcile the information both of us have on the matter."

After a very long pause, Tenel Ka pushed the door open and hovered, silently waiting for Jacen to follow her. Even without using the Force, Jacen could tell there was something else to Tenel Ka's disapproving silence than just her tension at the scenario.

If anything, she seemed to be judging him, as though calculating the thoughts and motives of a complete stranger than an old friend.

* * *

The trip to the Temple was tense and silent between herself and Jacen. It was all just as well – at least he wasn't trying to pull one of his cheap jokes on her, and make everything awkward. After all, she was keeping her silence on more than a few things.

It wasn't that she hadn't thought to see Master Skywalker to inform him – least of all for the sake of other Jedi in the Order. After all, regardless of the time and distance, she still considered many of them to be her friends, including but not limited to Jaina, Tahiri, Lowbacca, Zekk, Leia Solo, and of course, Jacen, himself. She wasn't stupid.

She was, however, proud. The first morning that she'd woken up to discover her connection to the Force completely cut, it had struck her how much she had been depending on the Force, even for little things that other ministers and nobles in her court were capable of without any Force sense, whatsoever. It had been a rude awakening, and at just the worst moments, and to think of facing Master Skywalker with this...

Her pride had cost her an arm, once upon a time. She had determined herself to learn from that. And yet, here she was, having to learn that lesson a second time. How could she go to her old Master and admit that she had forgotten so easily?

There was also the fact that, in all her years, she'd learned that it was rare for a Jedi to lose their connection to the Force – and, on the occasion it did happen, it was always the result of some failing in the Jedi, themselves.

What had she done to bring this on herself? Was it punishment for her arrogance? For her short-sightedness, for how easily she'd forgotten so quickly, for ignoring the call that her fellow Jedi from the Myrkr mission had answered? Was it because she had become lax in her exercises? Was it because she'd lost sight of the truly important matters – because she'd become so fixated on trivial, petty squabbles among rich, spoiled nobles in her court, instead of the greater purpose of the Living Force?

Or – and this truly frightened her – was it punishment for becoming pregnant? It had happened at the same time. Was it because of her motivation – that she'd been selfish, or seeking just for the company of a body beside hers –

(over her surrounding her inside her)

– just for the pleasure of a physical liaison with someone she was...

(in love with?)

...fond of? Or was it perhaps even a sign that she'd chosen the wrong man to be the father of her unborn child?

Tenel Ka cast Jacen a glance. If he noticed, he didn't respond.

There was also something that she hadn't said to Jacen that was making her nervous – a concern she hadn't brought with her on her voyage, but one that had arisen. Jacen's first suggestion – and first REASON, at that – were to keep herself safe by remaining at the Temple and using the rest of the Order as a shield. What had changed in him? The old Jacen would never have suggested to put the entire order at risk just for one person, in or out of the Order.

...Would he? Or had she just not known him as well as she'd thought?

She would have sighed, but wasn't about to let her composure slip.

Oh well, if this was a side effect of her pregnancy, then it was her own blasted fault for being so careless, especially since she was the one who'd –

(asked jacen to spend the night slipped into his room asked to share his bed)

– instigated the whole affair. She hadn't even had the sense to take any precautions.

In some, small way, she actually hoped that's all this was – from her lack of connection with the Force to the drama in the court, that it was all just the result of this, and her grandmother taking advantage of the situation to instill some chaos among the nobles, and it would be all over in nine months.

Because the alternative options were almost too frightening to bear.

* * *

Let us depart from the younger generation's concerns for the moment and deal in a pressing issue that worried Leia Organa Solo. Much like her son, the former Senator had a guest with whom she shared an intimate history. Unlike her son, she had been fully aware of her guest's arrival, having contacted him, herself. Both of them had met in a small room in the Visitor's District – the same, as irony would have it, that had been the scenery several months ago for the priest, Fabia Arbe, to reunite Corell Muntique with his lost son, Cristine.

"I'd be agitated if I weren't also feeling a little heat, myself." Her guest said, keeping his head bowed so that nobody saw his face under the hood. Regardless, Leia had the distinct impression that nobody would recognize him, even if they did see his face, unless they knew him personally – thanks both to the fact that he'd never been a very visible public figure, and the fact that, unlike his mother, her guest had not aged very well.

"You too? You never mentioned it in our transmissions." She asked. Her guest shrugged.

"Our comm lines aren't that secure. I know that someone else was monitoring my transmissions." He replied, "Maybe that's the cause, or maybe not, but I've also been getting a few... well... insidious messages."

Leia sighed, rather wishing they could do away with the euphemisms and polite speech.

"I somewhat doubt our transmissions are the cause of your problems – I only contacted you because I have the distinct impression that someone found out, already." She assured him, before reaching over and tugging at his hood, "And you could take this off, already. We are inside. Nobody will see us."

Her guest only pulled his hood down further over his face.

"It can't hurt to be cautious." He replied, "For all we know, there are cams hidden around here."

With a frustrated noise, Leia reclined into her seat and turned back to the topic at hand.

"Anyhow, the messages you've been receiving... do you mean to tell me they're threats, or blackmail of some kind?" Her guest's head bobbed, and his silence seemed to fill in volumes of shame, as though he held himself personally to blame that he couldn't have anticipated or prevented the scenario, "And I take it they've been coming from an anonymous source?"

"Anonymous and untraceable. I had a tech trace the origin of the sender and each individual message routed to the server of some computer that isn't even active anymore." The old, once honey-sweet voice was now harsh with anxious irritation.

This time, Leia let her hand slide across the table and rest on the clasped fists of her guest. One might even say her gesture was tender, but in the way one is gentle when handling a distressed friend, as opposed to a lover in need of intimacy or family in personal peril.

"Do you have the results of those traces? I might recognize them, or be able to pass them on to someone who they would mean something to."

Her guest pulled something out of the pocket of his coat – a disk, which undoubtedly had the information Leia had inquired about.

"The odd thing is..." He murmured, in a tone so hushed that only Leia could hear it, "...All of these messages hadn't been demanding anything – there's no demand for money, nor action of any sort. The attitude of all of them seems almost like it could be someone just letting me know for my own good... or maybe whoever it is just wants a laugh at my discomfort."

That was odd, if Leia had ever heard it.

"I should be asking, though – how did you handle it? I only knew about... but you were the one who had to both keep it a secret and cover up the aftermath. It seems like you've got more at stake than I do."

Also irritated, herself, Leia pocketed the disk.

"Thank you for that reminder." She grumbled. She could swear, Han was rubbing off on her, "An acquaintance of mine helped me arrange it. Beyond that, I don't see why I should give you an details." Even with her guest's face hidden, Leia knew the look she was receiving – something between hurt and snubbed, "Just in case – the less you know about it, the more secure you are. If anyone tries to blackmail you for information, you won't know enough to tell them."

Her guest sighed.

"...What did happen that you felt the need to contact me?" He asked, slowly. Personally, Leia would have been frustrated, save for the fact that she had been deliberately vague over the comm lines and supposed it was all she deserved for just assuming her companion had automatically understood.

Maybe she was being spoiled by living among people who understood her perfectly – either because they were Jedi or because they were family or both...

"It's ancient history where you and I are concerned. But someone did find out that we hadn't kept the affair as licit as most believe..." She could feel her companion's eyes on her, "...It was in that apartment... someone had everything set up, everything in such a way that it only could have been because they knew... the only explanation is that they'd found out, unless by some enormous coincidence, someone was playing a very tasteless practical joke..."

"That's all? A set up in the old apartment? Seems a little vague, not to mention impractical."

"You said yourself that you had received messages with no threats or blackmail – instead, rather as though someone just wanted to let you know, or to just make you squirm." Leia rebutted, "And, in my case, I have an idea who it might be."

* * *

It wasn't that Jaina would say she was unhappy to see Tenel Ka – after all, it had been a long time, and she was always happy to see old friends – but it did sting to see her brother return with drastic swiftness to some of his old personality around her. After all the detachment, and how distant Jacen had been, the fact that he was behaving this way towards Tenel Ka...

Not that Jaina cared. It would be petty to care.

"Jaina. Good to see you." Tenel Ka's very simple statement stopped Jaina from having to think or worry further.

"Didn't expect to see you on Coruscant. How've you been, Tenel Ka?" It also didn't hurt that Jaina felt a childish streak of pleasure to blatantly pretend Jacen wasn't standing right there. But it wasn't like that was what she was doing – after all, Tenel Ka had said 'hello' first, so it was only polite... and why was she over thinking this?

"Jaina." Jacen sounded irritated when he spoke – the sound, itself, felt like something reaching into Jaina's stomach and churning the contents, "We're trying to keep this as low profile as possible."

Which was all Jaina needed to hear to know roughly what was at stake – that Tenel Ka felt the need for secrecy, a general idea of the many possibilities why, and all the urgency those conditions implied.

"I was just saying hi." But urgency was no reason to not at least act like everything was normal. And who did Jacen think he was, anyway? Maybe it wasn't a good reason, but hearing him use that tone with her just made Jaina more and more irritated. Actually, it just made her want to...

"It has been a long time." And there was Tenel Ka, interrupting Jaina's thoughts in a much more welcome manner. And, oddly enough, she was using a tone of voice that seemed much more indirectly pacifying, than confrontational. It was enough to make Jaina wonder... "I've been about the same as always..."

"That bad, huh?" Jaina bounced back, "Guess it could be worse – at least you didn't get dragged into the mess with Raynar..."

Tenel Ka's serious frown immediately took it's place on her forehead. Jaina wouldn't admit it, but she did miss the Tenel Ka whom never joked and never karked around – it had always been straight facts, no sarcasm, no double-meanings, no bullshit. Especially given these past months, with everyone else jerking Jaina around by her chain.

"Raynar? As in Raynar Thul? So, he was found or... what happened?" Tenel Ka's tone changed from a serious, authoritative command for information to one of almost maternal worry, just as Jaina felt her own expression dissolve into worrisome panic.

"You mean you don't know? I'd thought you would have been able to tell – that you might have at least sensed..." Before she could get any further, Jacen interrupted her.

"Jaina! Tenel Ka wasn't with us on Yoggoy." There was that churning sensation in the pit of Jaina's stomach, again, "She doesn't have the benefit of the Joiner's connection."

That hadn't been what Jaina had been thinking of, but now that Jacen said it, she did pause to consider – maybe she'd been becoming more dependent on that – and, given that she had been spending more time either on her own or, on the rare occasion she had company, it was Zekk or she was observing Raynar, maybe she'd started to take it for granted.

Wait, no! This wasn't about a Joiner's connection – Jaina forced herself to calm down, despite that it had never been her strong suit. What was she doing, letting Jacen distract her with that kind of thought? And, now that she was thinking about it, why would Jacen just spring up to defend Tenel Ka in quite that roundabout way? Why not let Tenel Ka defend herself? And why change the topic to the Joiner's bond?

...And, since Jaina had been thinking about it, why hadn't Tenel Ka known? Either she would have sensed something – even the vaguest impressions or emotions – through the Force, or Jacen would have told her. Why had neither of those apparently happened, and then why did Jacen feel the need to, not only fail to explain, but go out of his way to keep Jaina in the dark about it?

Jaina let her eyes linger on Tenel Ka and Jacen, both of whom were very silent. It was almost eerie.

Fine. Let them keep their secrets, then. Jaina had more important things to think about.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure of a visit from the Queen Mother of Hapes, herself?" Jaina forced herself to move on. Tenel Ka's lips twitched. Jaina wondered what she'd said to incite that reaction.

"I had a matter to discuss with Master Skywalker. It seemed best to make it in person." Tenel Ka replied. And Jaina was SO convinced that it was the whole truth, what with how evident the measures were that her friend had taken to remain anonymous.

'A matter that couldn't be discussed over the comm, but you also didn't want to make an uproar or let anyone know you were here.' Whether Tenel Ka had intended for Jaina to deduce her real intentions or not, Jaina wasn't sure.

"Well, you're gonna be waiting a while." Jaina replied, casually gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder to the Temple's door, "He's talking with the CMC."

Jacen immediately stiffened – the kind of reaction Jaina expected from someone whom had been stung by a fire wasp. Or zapped by a stun pole. Or both.

"She's here, is she?"

"Someone you know?" Tenel Ka asked, apparently very curious to hear about this, though Jaina couldn't tell if the curiosity rose from a desire to meet the Countess, or to know how the two of them knew her.

"Yes." Jacen's reply hissed out from between clenched teeth.

"She's dropping Ben off." Jaina's head almost fell off her shoulders, snapping around at the sound of Mara Jade Skywalker's voice. She had obviously walked out of the doors, but for all the attention the three of them had been paying, she might as well have appeared out of thin air, "She finally found him hiding out in her house."

"He's been sneaking off there, a lot, has he?" Jacen asked, his voice a queer mixture of amusement and concern – and Jaina was quite confident she shared it, for the same reasons, at that. And she would have thought more of it, if she weren't so preoccupied by the fact that Jacen wasn't even aware that Ben hadn't just been 'sneaking off there, a lot', but that he'd been missing and hiding in the CMC's House for the last three days in a row.

Jaina heard her Aunt Mara groan, just a little. Undoubtedly, she was thinking the same thing.

"Well, I'd actually be lying if I said I wasn't happy her Excellency was at least keeping an eye on him." She continued, shrugging, "Especially with how things have been around here, lately."

And this was exactly what Jaina had NOT wanted to hear.

"Really?" Jacen asked, his tone communicating all the displeasure of both of them.

Mara also began to scowl. It seems there was quite a lot of that going on, wasn't there?

"That, and between us as family, Luke hasn't been quite the same since he came out of the medcenter..." Jaina had certainly heard of it, at least in passing from her mother, but from the look on Jacen's face, she had the feeling that either her parents hadn't passed the information along, or Jacen hadn't been listening, "...And after yesterday, he locked himself up in his meditation chamber. I almost followed him..."

"Wait! What happened yesterday, Aunt Mara?" Jaina asked. Her Aunt – and, now that Jaina thought about it, her Master – closed her eyes, and slowly exhaled.

* * *

"_I fail to see why we're discussing these cases – at all, really – but out in public." Mara mused. Why she was still poring over murders that were quickly growing cold, and which she had found more and more of the detectives were ceasing to investigate, was beyond her. Luke simply replied by patting her on the arm. She had been glancing at him for the last twenty minutes and hadn't seen his eyes even move across the document._

_Of all places he'd picked, Luke had suggested a little cafe somewhere on the upper levels of Coruscant. All around them were other couples, giggling, feeding each other scoops of expensive desserts, sharing drinks with long straws in them. And they were all young, too. Did Luke WANT her to feel like an old hag?_

"_You seemed like you could use a break. And some fresh air and sunshine." He said. And, by 'a break', Mara assumed Luke meant from Orewahime and Trike. And, sure enough, she was finding herself relaxing more and more._

_That didn't change the fact that she was getting no further with any of this. She really was beginning to doubt what good it did anyone for the two finest Jedi in the Order to pore over the files on the individual murders. Well, alright, she understood the subtle insistence – because Omas was still suspicious of those strong in the Force and wanted to keep two of the most powerful practitioners busy. And she understood that Luke wouldn't walk away – not when lives were at stake._

_And, though she wouldn't admit it, she was now rather invested in at least finding a link. It was something that had brewed after all her brainstorming with Trike. There had to be a connection – even though most of the victims were unrelated, and absolutely every one of them seemed unique, something inside her just insisted there was something in common. Possibly, these were all the work of one person – even though they took place whole systems apart, there just had to be something._

"_Breaks usually involve not taking the work with you." Mara pointed out, setting her file down and rubbing her forehead right on her hairline._

"_It could be a lot worse." Luke reminded her. And, indeed, this had to be, oddly enough, one of their least demanding jobs. Sit around and look at files. Detective work. Maybe use their connection with the Force to reveal something that ordinary detectives were bound to miss._

_This, of course, made Mara even more irritable. Partly because there really was no challenge – mental or no, she still felt more and more like a secretary, just sitting around instead of traveling to other systems and actually learning something more. Partly because – and this was definitely the Farmboy rubbing off on her – she just wanted to stop whoever it was that was taking all these lives, even if the investigators, whose job it was to stop this, were giving up._

_Yes. In it's own way, Luke was right – it could be a lot worse._

"_Is that...?" Mara heard a voice behind her, but there was no malice to it, nor any sense of danger through the Force. She didn't think anything of it until she heard, "Wormie!"_

_Luke's head shot up at hearing someone shout. Mara spun in her seat, getting a good look at the person who had called out. Coming towards them, edging between tables was a homely looking couple, probably the only pair just as old as herself and Luke. The man had a thick, ruddy face and a hefty body – probably more muscle than she was giving it credit for, though, as she definitely saw heavy muscles over his wrists as they poked out of a tan-colored tunic. The woman was shorter, also a little heavier, and round faced. Both of them wore clothes made of thick, simple cloth, and both of their faces were tanned, as though they'd been beaten with wind and sand._

"_Fixer? Camie?" Luke actually stood up. The two – complete strangers, as far as Mara knew – came around the side and both gave Luke enthusiastic hugs and slaps on his shoulders, just before, "Oh, Mara, this is Laze – also Fixer – and Camie Loneozner – friends when we were kids. Fixer, Camie, this is Mara Jade Skywalker."_

_Oh, well – she supposed she could be sociable enough to shake hands with two old friends. It wasn't like they had actually been accomplishing anything._

"_We didn't know you'd be here – do you live in this cluster, or just here on business?" Laze immediately jumped to asking Luke, inviting himself to a seat. Mara did have to admit, she saw the similarities – only a fellow Farmboy could be so upbeat._

"_Both. I have the whole Jedi Order to keep an eye on."_

_The man slapped his forehead, smirking, much like a boy instead of an old man._

"_Right. You told us about you and Old Ben, last time..." Which prompted Camie to lean forward._

"_Speaking of which, since we've bumped into you, thanks for what you did for us."_

_Mara raised an eyebrow, all the more curious when Luke's response was to blink, as though confused, himself._

"_...Did...?"_

_His friend also leaned in._

"_You know – with our debts and our daughter and everything."_

_Luke blinked, yet again._

"_You two have a daughter?" He asked, sounding – and feeling, Mara could tell – genuinely surprised, "And... debts? I thought you two were managing the farms bought by TaggeCo..."_

_This did earn Luke one of Mara's signature Looks._

"_Farmboy." She said. Luke looked back in her direction, blinking with that classic Farmboy naivete, "...Given the House of Tagge's connections with the Empire, how well do you think they did AFTER it's fall?"_

_And now, Luke's friends were giving her looks of 'Who IS this woman and how did Luke manage to get married to HER?' Luke had the good sense to look embarrassed, especially after she phrased it like that._

"_...Yeah, after the war, most of those properties didn't do so well. I mean, we still managed okay – pulled a few tricks with the real estate and got a setup that kept us pretty comfortable. And then..." Camie shot her husband a look, "I got pregnant with Jokla."_

"_So, how old is she, now?" Luke asked, still looking adorably confused._

"_Oh, she's grown up. In fact, the whole reason we came here was to visit her before the next semester starts at the University she's attending."_

_If Luke could have opened his eyes any wider, Mara was sure his eyeballs would have popped out of his skull._

"_She's attending school HERE?"_

"_Even more impressive when, given how we had to stretch the budget with her around, we were both pretty damn sure she'd never attend, at all, forget at a good school, off-planet." Fixer commented, "But, still we were okay..."_

_And, suddenly, Mara could wager a guess._

"_But, that changed when the Hutts made Tatooine their homeworld in the war with the Yuuzhan Vong?" Again, she was granted with a look, some cross between admiration, surprise, and caution._

"_With all the trading that went in and out, moisture farms just weren't gonna cut it anymore – besides, they could just ship in all the water they wanted. So, the only choice left was to switch over into trading. Had to make investments, take on some extra expenses, rent a few ships... and guess who, out of all the saps who switched industries, had his investment NOT pay off?" Laze explained._

_Luke was starting to look less and less amazed by the change he was seeing in his old chums and more and more alarmed at their account._

"_...Sounds like it must have been rough." He finally managed, once all the information processed._

"_Pretty brutal, yeah." This, Laze delivered with a shrug and received a glare from his wife._

"_That's putting it pretty bland." She snapped, accusingly, before turning back to Luke, "Two years, Luke – it was two whole years of bad shipments and failing prospects and reports, one after another that all of our ships were lost, for one reason or another. We had to sell anything we had that was worth any money – all of Fixer's equipment, any old speeders or jewelry or furniture we had, the homestead and any of the shares we had in other ventures, and that only got us by the first year. After that, it was bill after bill. We only managed by working any odd jobs we could find."_

_Laze looked rather queasy, hearing Camie put it in such straightforward terms._

"_We did get a little bit of luck – about halfway through the year, this guy in a suit comes to visit us. Young, too – probably some big-shot's kid they were training to take over the business – in this fancy get up, saying he's a messenger from some bank, somewhere, that owned one of our loans. Hell, I came in to the house from my shift and found him chatting up Jokla."_

"_And you didn't punch him in the face?" Luke asked, apparently trying to salvage the more relaxed mood. Or maybe not – Mara wasn't sure if he was being serious or not, unlike his friend, who was brutally honest when he replied, _

"_I wanted to. Was glad I didn't, though – turns out, he or his boss or his daddy or whatever was one of those good types, and when I said... well, okay, HE guessed that I wouldn't be able to make my payment, but, either way, he said they could give me an extension on the loan and an extra six months, at least on the one with the greatest value. After that..." He trailed off._

"_Well, you obviously made it out alright." Luke pointed out, even though Laze and Camie had both gone a little green. More obviously, to Mara's experienced eye, they had been given every reason to expect in those six months that they might not.  
_

"_More odd jobs. And, again, we got a little luck – most of them turned out to pay a bit better, enough that we were able to pay off other bills as they came, but we were still scraping by. And, seriously, it really was luck at that – I kept expecting the collectors to come in and demand MORE, as interest or a fee or something..." Laze leaned back in his seat, "Looking back on it, I'd say we handled it okay."_

_Again, Camie glared at him._

"_You're leaving out the parts when Jokla caught you toying with a blaster." This made Luke go very white. Laze cringed, like his wife had slammed something heavy and sharp edged down on his hand._

"_It was Hell, Luke." Laze said, defensively, "Just Hell – I mean, we owed money to the Hutts. D'you think they just sent credit collectors to our place? The kid from that bank at the beginning was probably the most decent person we'd had knock on our door the whole year."_

_And, Mara presumed, he'd been considering trying to use money from some kind of insurance to finish paying any debts. All things considered, it made sense, at least to her._

"_...I... Why didn't you at least contact me?" Luke stammered, perfectly aghast that he was hearing this, and after the fact at that, "I had no idea..."_

_Camie shifted, uncomfortably._

"_We couldn't... It was our problem, we had to deal with it."_

"_Besides..." Laze sounded aggressively defensive, almost like Han just before or after having a very personal weakness exposed, "I wasn't about to ask you for help after what we DID during the Empire. What, we were supposed to comm you and say 'Hey, Wormie – Know it's been a long time since we sold you out the troops that were cruising the Lars' homestead, but d'ya think you could lend us about fifty-thousand credits?' No, thank you."_

"_Laze." Luke replied, a serious frown in place, "You guys are still my friends. I'm not so petty that I'd hold that against you."_

_Mara felt herself fight a smile. If that wasn't the truth, she'd eat her boots – in all the years she'd been around Luke, she didn't think she'd ever seen him hold a grudge. Sure, have difficulty getting over an ex-girlfriend, but grudges? Not Luke._

_Laze grumpily shifted in his chair._

"_Doesn't matter anyway, because you'll never guess what happened after that. Anyway, six months went by, we kept scraping, but got all the debts paid off, and all that was left was that one big one the kid had put a hold on – still can't believe he was working for a big bank, must have been the director's kid – and, before Camie says it, that was when I'd pulled out the blaster and was THINKING about it." Laze shot Camie a glance, "And Jokla actually walked in on me and handed me something – this box with a two chips in it. One was a holomessage chip, and the data showed the bill I had to pay, with a copy of a reciept – the damn thing had already been paid in full. No explanation who or how it'd been done, just the receipt."_

"_Not just." Camie put in, again, this time digging into her pocket and pulling something out. In her hand, Mara saw a small handcase made completely of silver – one that was rattling with something in it._

"_You brought that with you?" Laze asked, incredulously._

"_For luck. Besides, it's great for carrying credit chips." Camie slid the case open, then pulled out a message chip. When she pressed the button on the side, it lit up, showing a message that someone had typed up, "This was also in here, along with a credit chip with half a billion credits on it."_

_Mara squinted, able to make out the message: 'A party with vested interest has seen fit to give you aid. The enclosed sum should pay for a tuition of up to seventy-five million per year for a four year degree, plus room and board and text fees. Regards from the Drunken Sailor.'_

"_A party with vested interest... We assumed that meant you." Camie insisted, sounding almost distressed when Luke slowly shook his head, "And, besides, isn't this the symbol of that Order you head now, that thing Old Ben claimed to be?" She handed him the case. Luke took it and examined the case very briefly before Mara saw his eyes go very wide._

"_...No, Camie..." He said, voice strained, "...This is the insignia of the Empire."_

"_What?" Mara felt her own voice climb a pitch, and when Luke extended it to her, she didn't even bother and Force-pulled it out of his hand. Indeed, when she shifted the case a little, the light gleamed off in such a way that it was very clear the symbol of the Galactic Empire had been etched into the clean, perfectly polished silver. Another shift, and the symbol blended back into the lid, but to Mara's eyes, it seemed to stand out like a black burn on otherwise spotless white skin._

"_Aw, hell, Wormie – how were WE supposed to know that? We didn't care about any of that politics stuff." Laze groaned, "Still don't."_

"_There's nothing wrong with that." Luke agreed, though visibly relaxed now that he'd heard exactly how the two of them had been saved from bankruptcy. Mara had to bite her tongue to stop herself from spouting her personal opinion that these two had gotten exactly what they deserved if they didn't care about politics enough that they'd confuse the Empire for the Jedi Order._

"_Well... if it wasn't you..." Camie said, slowly, but then shrugged and turned to Mara, "Excuse me." Mara's head jerked up. She realized she'd been staring at the insignia on the case, "Could I have that back? I've still got money in there."_

"_Oh." Mara handed the case back. In some way, she wondered if she should ask to keep it, but knew how stupid it sounded, even inside her own head._

_Laze shrugged._

"_Oh well. Could've been worse – total stranger paid off our bill for us AND gave Jokla a full pass for an education. And none of it turned out to be fake or a hoax, either – she's been doing well, and we haven't heard squat from the bank, except another confirmation that it'd been paid off. And, I guess, Camie's not too off about the luck part – same day Jokla came back with that, one of the ship's I'd thought was lost came back with full cargo and everything set. We've been doing pretty nice, ever since."_

_Luke sank back into his own seat, letting out a sigh._

"_We should get going..." Camie finally said, obviously sensing how uncomfortable the atmosphere was, "We've got to get to the meeting place. It was good to see you, Wormie – we're glad you're doing well." She and Laze rose, with Laze giving Luke another slap on the shoulder and Camie leaning in to aimiably peck him on the cheek. Luke barely responded, staring after both of them as they walked off._

_Mara also turned to watch – while she could sense there was absolutely nothing malicious in their intentions, or even a duplicit intention, she could definitely sense there was something else in there. Or, in short, it couldn't possibly be a coincidence. After all, that those two would be in the exact same cafe as them, on the very same day that Luke had just HAPPENED to insist they have lunch at this particular place, and both pairs of them to be at JUST the tables where they'd see each other at JUST the right time..._

_That was too much._

"_Mara..." Luke murmured. Mara turned back to say 'Yeah, I think there's something odd about this, too' until she saw the look on Luke's face. He was still staring in the direction his friends had gone – if it could be called staring at all. It was as though Luke had suddenly been struck blind, and was simply staring off at what he saw as nothing._

"_Farmboy. Are you okay?" Luke didn't even respond to the pet name._

"_...I didn't even know." He mumbled. His face still hadn't regained all of it's color from earlier in their story, "...Maybe at the time, I wouldn't have been able to do anything... but I didn't even sense anything. What if there's more that I haven't been paying attention to, that I haven't noticed, because I had just forgotten, because... because I sense... nothing?"_

_Mara couldn't think of much to say to that – well, actually she could, but she also knew better than to say it. Especially given how much it had dawned on her, recently, how personally Luke took these failures. Coming out and saying that she thought something was off about this visit... that could probably wait. Or she could talk to someone else about it._

_But there was something that she knew did need saying._

"_They're alright, though." She said. Luke rested his head in his hands, but nodded, slowly, "There are plenty of others, just like your friends who didn't get any help. You know that. But you probably wouldn't be able to help them – not all of them. That's what Jedi are meant to do..."_

_Luke glanced up at her. She stopped – there was an undeniable hurt look in those Skywalker eyes that felt like a cut, in and of itself. Then, a slow, unsteady smile twitched at his lips._

"_...That is pretty selfish, huh?" He agreed, and, if Mara hadn't known him so well, she would have sworn it was a passive-aggressive argument._

"_That's not what I... argh." She groaned, realizing she had, indeed very much put her foot in her mouth and been very tactless. Luke sat up, again._

"_No... you're right – a Jedi's role is to treat all people as equals..." He drifted into silence. And, this time, Mara wondered if he was thinking something else. Damn it, and she'd been trying to get him OFF the subject, "...We should go back."_

_Mara gave her husband a long, calculating look. Then, she looked back down at all the files that they hadn't even touched. Then, she sighed._

"_...Yeah..."_

* * *

"That sounds like Uncle Luke, alright." Jaina agreed. Tenel Ka, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to throw up.

"...Even Master Skywalker is..." Jaina told herself she WOULD find out what was eating Tenel Ka so, but not right now.

"It is a bit more of a problem than even I was willing to give it credit for." Mara reluctantly agreed, "After all, not being fully aware of stirrings in the Force are always an opportunity for something else to sneak in, without our notice." She left the other part – that if the Grand Master himself was losing touch with the Force, what hope did the lesser ranks have? – silent.

Jaina also saw Jacen's face twitch. Clearly, he was thinking of something that he wasn't saying.

And, of course, there was her own lull in stirrings in the Force – one that wasn't nearly as bad as Uncle Luke's, she was sure, but still enough that she was disturbed, just thinking about it. So much so that she was now launching a full investigation, trying to find whatever it was that she'd missed.

"Well, I should get going..." Jaina finally broke the silence. Her ship was ready and standing by. She just needed to get changed into her flight suit, and she was gone.

"If you're going somewhere, maybe you could make a swoop in the Hapes cluster." Jacen suggested, in a tone of voice that sounded like a cross between friendly suggestion and straight up command. Jaina almost bristled, except with Tenel Ka's arrival, she'd come to her own conclusion that something was remiss AND she'd failed to sense that, as well.

"Hapes it is, then."

"I know." Mara replied, pointedly, "Tenel Ka, go inside and ask for Orewahime. She might be a bitch, but she knows what she's doing." Tenel Ka simply shrugged and brushed past Mara, Jacen not far behind her, "And I was actually looking for you, before you left."

Jaina blinked at her old Master. Mara was staring at her, quite intently.

"What, exactly, have you been chasing around, these last few months?" She asked. Jaina tried to look away as casually as she could.

"I'm investigating the history of the Rebellion from about thirty years ago. I think there's some events or people from that time that might be having an effect on whatever's going on, right now." She could feel her Aunt – and her Master, since both of them had every right to do this – giving her an incredulous look, "...Everything feels like it's tied together, but for some reason, I can't figure out why or how. It's like I've been given a peek at answers on a test, but it was so quick that I only caught some words and I'm still left with no idea what to do, so I have to study, anyway."

"Jedi Solo." Oh, now Jaina knew she was in trouble, "That is a vague hunch, at best, to go on."

Jaina felt her face redden with shame. She knew that any other people she'd been asking for information had been thinking it, but only her Master would actually say it, so bluntly.

"...And that's really all that any of us have to go on – Luke's been unable to focus, Leia's put her training on hold, and we've seen Jacen..." She paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "That's why I'm coming with you."

Jaina let her head snap around so quickly, her hair went with it. Of all the things she'd been thinking her Aunt Mara would say, this was not one of them.

"Wha-"

"You do have a point – everything DOES feel like it's connected. So, the logical solution is for me to come with you, and we both put what we know into this, and it'll hopefully garner more sense than before." Mara paused, again, "Or do you doubt the wisdom of your Master accompanying you?"

Jaina considered many answers to this, before smiling, thinly.

"No, Ma'am."

"Good. You're learning."

A/N: SiouxFan – Your wish is granted!

A new chapter in only two months? I'm spoiling you guys! SPOILING!


	30. Part III: Chapter 5

CMC: Schadenfruede

By: Sapadu

A/N: I actually had a lot of this chapter finished.

And then my harddrive died. And I was a very sad panda. And I had to start this chapter over.

...On the plus side, it could have been just as I'd gotten the whole thing written and was attempting to upload it. It could be worse.

Chapter 5:

"So, you got yourself knocked up and now, yer losin' your Force Sense, huh?" Wherever his Uncle Luke had found this Medic Orewahime – this tiny, one-armed, foul-mouthed, old hag. Jacen had already come to several conclusions about her, "I ain't sayin' they're linked or nothing, but at least tell me it was worth it."

Several conclusions.

"Is there anything you can tell me about this?" Tenel Ka asked, not really trying to keep the medical smock closed, but also looking distinctly uncomfortable. Maybe it was because the medic woman had so many gray hairs and wrinkles that she looked like she'd never bathed before in her life, or maybe it was because Jacen – despite being there on Tenel Ka's request for her comfort – was glaring at Orewahime strong enough to burn holes in her head.

"Well, the best place to start would be the usual prenatal tests – that'll give us a clearer picture of what we're dealing with. Pregnancy screws with your hormone levels, so you lose control over your abilities, like when Force-sensitive children have trouble adjusting with puberty – it might be an overdose of progesterone or too much adrenaline at the wrong times, or a combination of both. Or, since your endocrine system will be outta whack, it could be any of the changes those hormones are causing to your body, like having increased blood pressure or susceptibility to anemia, or how that chemistry affects your brain. Shit, it could even be gastrointestinal – you might not be getting the nutrients you need, and that changes how your body works, in it's own way." Jacen felt the urge to pace with every word Orewahime said, especially as she wasn't doing anything that seemed constructive. She had taken one look at Tenel Ka, then turned her back and started puttering around with her medical equipment.

It took Jacen every ounce of control he had to not grab her by the short, half-brown half-gray hair, and shake until her neck snapped. Instead, as Orewahime was turning towards the medicine cabinet, Jacen stepped in her way.

"Are you really a medic?" He demanded, glaring down at her. It was, in his defense, a valid question – she had done very little except spit and sneer pseudo-scientific babble at him and then do absolutely nothing about it. And, given the seriousness warranted by a Jedi like Tenel Ka losing her Force-sense, he also considered himself very controlled by not reacting more violently, "Either you know or you don't."

For a reason that Jacen never would have guessed, Orewahime just shrugged. He would have liked to punch her for being so casual, except it would have done nothing. Honestly, he wanted to have a way to ruffle her – to, however little sense it made, somehow shock her into being serious. However, Jacen could tell that Orewahime was someone who just flat out couldn't be intimidated, as evidenced when her calm reply was,

"Okay – I don't know, then." Her voice was so cool that it made Jacen even more irritable. He distracted himself by stalking away and pacing, "An' I don't see how you getting all pissy will help: For one thing, there ain't never been much record of Jedi and Force-sensitive women having babies, even in old history, cuz it was never well documented, or rare. Then, after the Empire came and the Old Order fell, any data they mighta had got smoked and anyone and everyone who knew anything got their asses wiped out. This AIN'T an exact science, 'specially since I'm workin' from scratch."

Tenel Ka, to give her some credit, must have had the patience of a Jedi Master for not even flinching once during this conversation. In fact, all she did at this point was to continue asking Orewahime questions, such as,

"But, you do have some ideas about where to start? What kinds of tests would come first?" Orewahime also turned to her, this time with a needle and a few tubes, acting as though she'd been expecting this attitude, all along.

"I've got some theories, but no data. Best way to start would be to run some blood samples, check your blood cell count, measure your hormone levels, make sure your iron and potassium are sufficient, and go from there. Again, these things can vary from case to case, but if anything's REALLY off, it'll give us a place to start."

In other words, Jacen realized, this woman was just guessing and had no clue what she was doing. Thinking this way frustrated Jacen. Maybe he'd be better off trying to handle this, himself. He raised a hand to tell Orewahime this, though maybe with not quite as many words, before Tenel Ka interjected.

"Jacen, you said you needed to see Master Skywalker about something, didn't you?" That was not only giving Jacen a reason to leave, but also served as a pointed reminder that the reason Tenel Ka had come to the Temple at all was because he'd insisted.

His hand went down.

"Right." He agreed.

Besides, Master Skywalker would be just the person to ask about this woman – it was another headache, which Jacen didn't appreciate at the moment, but at least it was one that he could get straight answers to. And, if he had a reason to talk to Master Skywalker about persons of questionable origin and intent, that would be a clean, easy way to segue into his suspicions about the CMC. Suspicions which, if his instincts were right, he'd need every bit of support he could get for his old master to listen to him.

Jacen forced himself to breathe slowly as he turned for the door, already formulating his argument – the woman had been on Coruscant for only a year, and in that time, there had been a string of still unsolved murders, the beginning of what could have been another political crisis or war, Ben had been kidnapped, Jaina had started acting strange... and so many other odd occurrences, all of which might have been coincidence, if it weren't for his own experience around the woman.

With more than a little impatience, Jacen stabbed at the button to open the door with his thumb. Perhaps it would be for the best that it was Master Skywalker – whom had always been more open to arguments of intuition – than Master Jade Skywalker – whom had always been firmly rooted in arguments based on sound logic – that Jacen was going to explain the situation to.

"Oh, and Solo." Jacen turned and only barely ducked as a bedpan came hurling at his head and embedded, narrowed end first, into the wall behind him. Orewahime put down her leg from where she'd obviously kicked the projectile at him, "If you ever... FUCKING... try and pull a stunt like that again..." Jacen regarded her, much more calmly than he thought he'd ever be able to act around this infuriating woman – she was pointing at him with her only remaining hand, "I'll kick your ass, ya hear me?"

Jacen couldn't help but think that he'd rather like to see her try, but wasn't about to prolong the unpleasant encounter by starting another argument. Instead, he shrugged and strode away, down the hall.

If nothing else, he wanted to get something out of this visit, and Master Skywalker would be just the man to talk to.

* * *

"Quite the charmer y'all got there." Medic Orewahime sneered as the door closed after Jacen's retreating back. Tenel Ka took a deep breath, forcing her hard-learned composure into place.

To be fair, Orewahime's comment was not unwarranted. In just the last twenty-four hours, Jacen had proven to have changed – his behavior had been sharper and far more alarming than Tenel Ka remembered, and much of it had been to the point that Tenel Ka, had she not known Jacen personally and knew that this was unusual for him, would have probably thought the same thing. And, while she was willing to be forgiving of an old friend, she also wasn't blind and had seen and heard every part of the conversation Jacen and Orewahime had been through. When she next saw Jacen, she would be sure to hold him accountable and be sure he made amends.

And then, she would forgive him. Yes, of course she would.

"He might be a little..." If there was one thing Tenel Ka never thought she'd do, it was fumble for a word to describe someone. But, honestly, she was having difficulty thinking of how to put Jacen's odd behavior, now that she'd seen it and found herself making excuses, "...Assertive, but he's a good person." Yes, the Jacen she knew was a good person – he was a good man. She knew that. She trusted in that, "Just like you, right?"

In all fairness, Tenel Ka had been expecting that argument to have some effect on this woman. After all, from what she'd seen from Orewahime so far, she'd thought to herself that she was mostly from the same ideology or mindset as Jacen. And, at the very least, she thought this argument would poke a hole in the logic of this woman. Thus, Tenel Ka found herself quite surprised when Orewahime snorted.

"Girly." Orwahime started, an odd smirk on her face that Tenel Ka wasn't quite sure if it was supposed to be comforting, or contradictory, or... "I ain't no good person. I'm a medic and I do my job. And my job is to keep people healthy and save lives. Even if they're the slimiest, most disgusting sonofabitch to ever claw his way outta his mother's womb. Even if that nasty sonofabitch is a sonofabitch that just wants to die, already. I'll still do it." Orewahime paused, waiting for Tenel Ka to absorb that, "Think about it."

Well, it was something to think about. Tenel Ka looked down at her feet, watching her toes wrestle with each other as she considered this argument. If nothing else, it was something she could think about later.

"Were you serious when you said you could figure out what was causing this?" She asked, knowing that Orewahime had made no such promise, but wanting to fill the silence, anyway.

"Like I said, the best bet would be to take a blood sample. And, now that I think about it, runnin' y'all through a brain scanner would probably give us a good layout of what else is goin' on." Orewahime replied, halfway through prepping something that looked like an injector and Tenel Ka only hoped was an immunization, "Lie back, knees apart."

Tenel Ka obeyed, hands resting on the sides of her distended belly as she tried to breathe naturally.

"Is it true that there haven't been many cases of Force-sensitive women getting pregnant?"

"Yer the second woman I've ever had to deal with that lost her Force-sense once she got preggers." Orwahime's voice came from under the medical smock, "You're gonna feel a pinch – this is a sedative, then, I'm gonna go through a smear, and some immunizations that you're overdue for."

Tenel Ka took a deep breath, focusing on the ceiling and thinking over any number of questions running through her mind. She barely felt the pinch, and finally decided on her next question.

"Who was the first?" If nothing else, it would help her deal with this if had some information on another case. Possibly even know about a different person, who might help her...

"Yer lookin' at her." This statement left Tenel Ka blinking at the ceiling, wondering if she should turn her head or something, until Orewahime said, "Well, alright, yer not, but you know what I mean."

With a deep breath to keep herself calm, Tenel Ka considered her next question. Then, she heard Orewahime's voice move – no longer behind the barrier of the medical smock, but now next to her, at the counter with all the medical supplies, and all Tenel Ka could see was the woman's back. Still, it was enough to make her wonder if Orewahime was being serious, or if it was just a line to win Tenel Ka's trust, or make her relax, or something else.

"On the upshot, though, at least yer in good company – you've got friends lookin' out for y'all, a place you can go for help, a decent medical facility and folks to care for y'all. And, even if y'all didn't have none of that, at least havin' a spawn to watch for wouldn't be likely to get y'all killed or nothin'." Orewahime continued, sounding incredibly casual given that, for all Tenel Ka could assume, Orewahime herself had been on the receiving end of those same inconveniences.

On the other hand – and this was definitely Master Skywalker's teaching doing this thinking for her – how could she know what Orewahime had been through? Who was she to judge, especially the woman who was treating her? She was far older than Tenel Ka – presumably, she'd lived through the Clone Wars, so long ago that Tenel Ka's mother hadn't even been conceived yet.

"...Who are you?" Tenel Ka heard herself asking, so baffled by Orewahime's manner and attitude – and, while she was at it, the various scars and missing limbs certainly added to the mystery that was making Tenel Ka curious.

Orewahime turned back around. In her one remaining hand, Tenel Ka saw a probe instrument – the function of which she did not care to imagine – but she wasn't holding it as though to be menacing. There was a look in the single eye that wasn't covered up by the face patch – one that Tenel Ka recognized as a cold, clinical calculating look, as though Orewahime was struggling to judge the intention behind Tenel Ka's words. Then, slowly, a small, cocky smirk spread across Orewahime's twisted lips, and the coldness in her eye slowly warmed.

"Depends on who'na fuck y'all ask." She said, slowly enough that Tenel Ka wondered if Orewahime was taking delight in cursing so blatantly, "Ya ask anyone leftover from the old regime, they'll call me Jedi scum, and one'a their biggest problems. Talk to any've my patients, they'll tell y'all I'm the best and worst doctor they've ever wanted to smack. Bring in any of my old contacts, I'll bet ya they know me by my codename as 'Princess'. Trike'll call me Kenda, sometimes 'The best thing that's ever happened to him'." She paused, as though to let it all sink in.

Instead of feeling impressed, Tenel Ka gave Orewahime an incredulous look. One that, she was sure, clearly communicated her doubts. So, this woman was not only a Jedi and a medic, but also had been supposedly a spy of some sort during the Galactic-Imperial War? And, really, Tenel Ka was supposed to believe that Orewahime had been as good as she bragged at all three?

"But, if y'all just wanna name to put to a face, y'all can call me Kendalina Orewahime – the Greatest Jedi that Ever Lived."

* * *

_One thing that Luke hadn't told Mara was about all the nightmares he'd been having. He'd considered telling Orewahime – after all, these could be a side effect of being poisoned, and any damage it might have done to his brain – except he seriously doubted that. Orewahime had already run several brain scans, just to be safe, and they'd all come back normal._

_Yet, the nightmares continued. Most of them were the very traditional nightmare material, with Luke finding himself falling, lost, surrounded by monsters with sharp teeth, or seeing other people being torn apart by said monsters, or turning into creatures, themselves. One or two of them, Luke could remember from start to finish, but they had been so bizarre than he was fairly sure they weren't indicative of anything – or, if they were, he couldn't think of what._

_Tonight, however, Luke felt quite different. For one thing, there was a distinct setting that he was in – he found himself standing in one of the various meditation chambers that he might have imagined inside the Temple, save for the layout and design of the room. The floor was pale golden tile, the walls and ceiling were made of plain, elegantly cut stone that arched together over his head. The only light in the room came from a single, narrow window that stretched from the ceiling to the floor._

_Not only was the room distinct, but Luke felt... in control, somehow. Like he was actually present in the room, and could decide if he went left or right, if he sat or stood, if he wanted to stay in the room and pace, or if he wanted to try and get out – whether he could or not might not matter, but he still felt like he could make the decision and act on it. It almost felt..._

"_Lucid." Said a voice behind Luke, "Very good, Commander Skywalker."_

_Luke found himself spinning around and facing Trike. This, he had not been expecting. Dreams that he was aware during, seeing spectres or shades of other people in his dreams, even both at the same time, Luke was not unfamiliar with. One might even say he was accustomed to such events. But, of all instances of being conscious during a dream that presented him with a visit from another person, Trike was probably the last instance he'd ever thought he'd see._

"_What..." Luke stammered, blinking, uncomprehending, at the white-haired creature, "How... you..." Without any further information, Luke found himself trying to piece together an explanation on his own. Had Trike just now died, somehow and was just stopping to pass on a message before he departed for the other side? Had he been Force-sensitive and Luke just hadn't realized it? Or was this another person, another Jedi, whom just bore a resemblance to the visitor currently staying in a guest room with Orewahime? Or was it his own mind doing this, presenting him with an image of Trike just so it would be a figure he recognized?_

_The lines around Trike's eyes deepened, then softened as he shut them and sighed, as though to say 'Of course this would happen.'_

"_No, I am not dead, nor am I a vision from a different person, whom is taking this shape because you would recognize me this way. I am still alive, merely dreaming like yourself, and very much myself." Trike said, and then continued, also in a weary voice that spoke of some deeper exhaustion than just being asleep, "And, to answer the question how... ever since I can remember, I have had the ability to see either other people's dreams inside of my own, or premonitions of the future, so..."_

_He let it hang. Luke found himself stupefied and blinking at this strange man. It was a reasonable explanation – there was no doubt about that – but it was so bizarre, and so unexpected that Luke would have doubted Trike, were it not for this sensation he had that he'd already known. To be standing inside a very lucid construct of his own mind and having a conversation with Trike like this almost felt... nostalgic. Even the strangest sensation of deja vu._

"_So... we're inside a dream?" He asked, just wanting to clarify. It felt so odd, to be thinking of a dream as a setting for any sort of behavior or an interaction._

"_A dreamscape, if you want a word for our setting." Trike clarified, and then, out of nowhere, two chairs appeared and he took one as a seat, "Though the scenery, I picked a room from the old Jedi Temple – I apologize, but it is the only place I have vivid enough mental images of to create a concrete scenario."_

_Luke continued to watch Trike, borderline suspicious, but also filled with an instinct that told him Trike meant no ill will, despite what he was capable of. At the same time, Trike kept those envy-green eyes focused quite intently on Luke, in a manner that almost felt like he was thinking exactly the same thing. The information that he was familiar with the Old Order, and it's Temple, was yet another piece in the mystery behind the man, one that Luke imagined Mara would latch onto with ferocity._

_Oh, wait... Mara had left, three days ago, with Jaina on an investigation of some sort. Even that had been vaguely described, but Luke wasn't about to object when he, himself, hadn't been able to delve into his Force-sense much, lately. Compound that with the news Jacen had brought about Tenel Ka two days ago, and how it seemed to be coming at the same time as his own misgivings and seeing other Jedi around him behaving oddly and..._

"_...I feel like I'm perfectly awake." Luke observed out loud as he took the other seat. Trike shrugged, looking honestly like he wasn't surprised at this information, so Luke could only assume that he was meant to act as though they were awake and having this conversation, face to face, "Might I ask, at least, what you're doing here?"_

_Trike folded his hands and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It was a very business-like posture, one which made Luke feel incredibly childish, or at least like he was facing down someone who outranked him in some way._

"_Because I have this ability, I have also noticed, during the last week or so, that you have been experiencing more than your fair share of nightmares." He said 'fair share' with an attitude as though dreams were something that were measured and distributed by some outside manufacturer, "You have not said anything to Kenda, even though it might be medically relevant, because you know your brain scans have come back normal. Thus, you have concluded that these nightmares might be prophetic or indicative of some other event to come."_

_Luke felt his eyebrows climbing up his forehead, hearing this. While it was very true, it also raised the question how Trike knew about Luke's dreams for the past week – a question that Luke could guess the answer to, but found himself quite uncomfortable entertaining._

"_And... I assume you know all this because you've been observing my dreams?" He prodded. To his credit, Trike did look somewhat uncomfortable having been pinpointed so easily._

"_...Where my ability is concerned... you have always been a... person of interest, shall we say?" There was that deja vu, again. Trike used the word 'always'... hearing that made Luke more than a little curious, enough to make him wonder what else he wasn't aware of, what else Trike could very easily know and be concealing that could have something to do with any of the other uneasy events unfolding._

_But, of course, Luke thought to himself, that assumed Trike was doing this on purpose. For all he knew, Trike wasn't even aware that Luke was confused by the various questions he had. Perhaps, perhaps not. But if Luke didn't at least give him a chance..._

"_So, you're here for... what reason, precisely?" Luke asked, not realizing he was being a thousand times more patient than Mara would have been in his position. Trike met his gaze, levelly._

"_Because of the time I have lived with this ability, I have adapted to understand dreams fairly well – I would like to offer some assistance. If, with your permission, I were to watch your nightmares for some time, I might be able to help you understand what they mean, or their source." He paused, "Or, failing that, give you some control so you don't have quite so many, or they lessen in severity."_

_Again, Luke hadn't been expecting this response. He could honestly think of nothing to say to that, and found himself staring at Trike for several minutes, completely at a loss for what to say._

"_If you would like me to not intrude, I shall respect your wishes." Trike added, in a tone that seemed borderline anxious, save for the fact that Luke felt a distinct tug from him – as though attempting to wrestle a part of himself into submission that would not be calmed. It gave Luke something to say, at any rate._

"_That would depend on why you offered, in the first place." To his mind, it was a fair question. Much as he wanted to give Trike the benefit of the doubt, there was also a place in him that wanted to know how much Trike was sure of himself, as well as why he was so conflicted._

_And, surely enough, Trike looked away and didn't answer. It felt, to Luke, like that silence should have said more than enough in the place of any real answer, except Luke knew virtually nothing about Trike that he could have used to guess. If anything, Luke supposed he should be even more suspicious, save for that instinct that he was in no real danger, either at present or in the future._

"_In that case, could you at least tell me why you're offering when, thus far, I've only gotten the impression that you..." Though, really, his question wasn't quite fair this time. It was more directed towards Orewahime, "And your partner are not too partial to me?"_

_In response to this, Trike sat straight up so suddenly that one would have thought someone had connected magnets to his spine and just then switched on a powerful electromagnet._

"_That is not..." His words came out sharp – sharp enough that Luke suspected he would have been startled under other circumstances, but now only reacted with a raised eyebrow. And, for whatever reason, this had enough of an effect on Trike that his posture immediately relaxed and his voice reverted back to its usual soft tone, "...That is not it at all." More squirming. Trike's foot started to trace circles on the floor and he unclasped his hands to let a finger trace the edge of the chair he was sitting on. Luke was still finding himself baffled at how someone as large-framed and monstrous as Trike could manage to look so meek and small when embarrassed, "...You just... bring back old memories, is all..."_

_Oh._

"_From the Old Order, you mean." Luke clarified, and Trike flinched, again. This, Luke suddenly realized with a new stab of guilt, he probably should have realized – he'd already known that Orewahime and, likely, this partner of hers had been alive since the Clone Wars, so of course they would have lived through the fall of the Old Order. And, if he was to guess because of Trike mentioning that he was familiar with the former temple of the Old Order, it only stood to reason that Trike and Orewahime had been present, and thus, would still remember the betrayal of Anakin Skywalker._

"_...It has been over fifty years... and Kenda and I both still have nightmares about that night..." Trike mumbled. The wrenching feeling in Luke's gut twisted._

"_I'm sorry." And he was – for not having been preceptive enough to know better than to pry, for having pried open a wound that was obviously still sore, but probably most for not being able to do anything about it. It was starting to feel like the Force was throwing all this in his face and laughing at him._

"_No." Trike interrupted, holding up a hand and straightening his posture, "You should not be apologizing – children should not be held accountable for the trespasses of their parents."_

_This statement puzzled Luke, but he said nothing – he was learning how to be very good at that. In response, Trike shook his head, just a little, and then resumed the cold, business-like tone he had started off with._

"_In any case, if you need some time to consider..." Except he still had a hint of awkwardness to his tone – subtle enough that, if Luke hadn't been paying full attention to Trike's mannerisms, he might have missed it. But it was there._

"_I'll take you up on your offer." Trike's expression changed with half-comic, half-alarming speed to one of utter bafflement. Luke wished he could tell why, but also had enough patience to know better than to ask – partly to make up for digging in too early, already, and partly because he wanted to take his time. Since Trike had obviously been expecting Luke to refuse the offer, that said something plainly about what he thought others thought of him, "I'm willing to trust you, Mister Trike."_

_These words made Trike's eyes go wide – in fact, not just wide, but perfectly round. So round that Luke couldn't even tell where the corners were supposed to be. Whatever impact the offer of trust had on this man, Luke suspected that it had been far beyond his actual intentions. When Trike managed to calm down, his eyes dropped closed again for several seconds. Luke found himself watching Trike's face, both for some sign of a response, and studying his features. Mara would know what to make of every last line on Trike's face, from the wrinkles around his eyes and in a neat row up his forehead just over his nose, to the scars that ran down his temples and cheeks that were so deep, it almost seemed that Trike had been born with them._

_Luke, on the other hand... he was still, at his core, a simple farmboy, who couldn't read anything out of this man. And, as tempted as Luke was to feel sorry for himself and add it to his growing list of failings, he also had a turning sensation in his stomach that spoke of having all the answers available – just not in any place he'd looked, yet. Perhaps that was what made Trike's offer seem so appealing – Luke was used to seeing premonitions or signs in his dreams, but as of late, he'd been bewildered beyond belief as to any of their meanings. To have some help – or, at least, a means of controlling them – would be more of a relief than he ever thought it would be._

_Or, this possibly was only just occurring to him, suppose that was the reason behind the nightmares? As a sign from the Force that he had an ally right here, in the Temple, whom he would need to rely on for whatever was about to come?_

"_Triclops." It had been so long since Trike had said anything that Luke blinked at this non-sequitir. Trike balanced his chin on his clasped hands, "Trike is Kenda's pet name for me – just as, I suppose, is my calling her Kenda just a familiar version of Kendalina – but my proper name is Triclops."_

_Luke said nothing to this, but did understand – somehow, possibly through the Force but he wasn't sure – that Triclops offering his real name had been a mutual extension of trust. That, alone, was a relief to Luke._

"_It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Mister Triclops." Luke inclined his head, then offered a hand. Part of him was wondering how odd it was that he was dreaming about offering to shake someone's hand, but there was a different part of him that saw no problem with it, just like he saw no problem in trusting a complete stranger on his absolute certainty that they were a good person._

_Triclops regarded Luke's hand, as though he'd never seen such an apparatus before. Then, Luke saw one of his cheeks twitch. It was almost like seeing someone try to flex the parts of a newly attached artificial limb, which they had no idea how to operate, but still remembered using their old flesh and bone. After a long moment, Triclops raised a hand of his own and firmly clasped Luke's._

"_The pleasure is mine, Master Skywalker." Up until now, Luke realized, Triclops had only addressed him as 'Commander'._

_Just like the CMC._

"_Please, just call me 'Luke.'" He found himself saying. Triclops raised an eyebrow of his own, but dropped back into stone-faced composure quickly enough._

"_In any case, let us begin." Triclops continued, straightening and shifting backwards. And, when Luke gave him a questioning look, Triclops paused before offering, "As Kenda might flippantly put it: I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming."_

* * *

Unlike his mother, for reasons both understandable and alarming, Ben had noticed his father's mounting stress and had most likely guessed it was from night terrors. Maybe it was because, out of anxiety and respect, Ben paid such sharp attention to every habit and mannerism of his father's with a child's keen observation. Maybe it was because Ben's powers with his empathy were becoming more defined and sensitive around his father, and he was thus privy to the severe changes in temperament. Or, quite possibly, it was because Ben was around to see the darkening circles under his father's eyes, while his mother's departure with Jaina had precluded her presence to see these changes.

Whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes, Ben also found himself growing increasingly uneasy around his father. And, as he grew increasingly wont to do upon being uncomfortable, Ben found relief in sneaking out of the Temple and going to the only place he did feel safe – namely, the House of the CMC.

Of course, still being a young child, this wasn't without it's drawbacks, the primary of which was that Ben kept stopping and wondering if maybe he oughtn't be doing as he was. Perhaps he should go back and stay with his father – maybe he was misreading the atmosphere, entirely, and his father really just needed someone to keep him company... but that wasn't Ben's job. Ben was just a kid.

Still, what if he could do that job? It would be like taking a step closer to being an adult – closer to his parents taking him seriously. Perhaps he could go back to the Temple and talk to one of the other Masters into talking to his father. That might be better – Ben was fairly confident he could do it, and it would be easier than being the adult, himself, but still let his father know that Ben was looking out for him.

But perhaps his father really did want to be left alone. Perhaps Ben was right to be running off and hiding, staying out of the way and not being underfoot among all the other Jedi who had much better things to do.

On the other hand, perhaps, as Ben remembered from a more recent episode of running off to hide with the CMC, it was his childish dodging any responsibility and always hiding without telling his parents where he was going that was one of the reasons his father was changing for the worse. Perhaps it was Ben's fault, because he just wasn't grown-up enough to handle any of it, yet.

Or what if his father was sick? Ben had seen it – his father's deteriorating appearance. As much as Ben doubted that would be the cause of any behavioral changes, just as any child whom is convinced their parents are superhuman, it would still be serious. And the CMC was a medic – she'd be able to help him.

In any case, the only solution or answer Ben could think for any of these explanations was to go to his usual source for help. Which meant, of course, the CMC. No matter what the real problem was, she would know the answer – or, if she didn't, at least Ben would have tried. Despite still being so childish in his methodical approach, Ben still realized this was not a good sign, that his only thought was to see the CMC whenever he had trouble or a question. But, still... it was all he had. His only chance at helping anyone – his father or mother or anyone.

Thus, Ben was quite distressed when the Countess, upon seeing him arrive, was less than pleased.

"Sieur Ben – this is, unfortunately, a disagreeable surprise." Her tone was something of that between honest surprise – disagreeing surprise – and scolding. Ben's face fell and a similar gravitational pull affected his heart in it's journey to his feet.

"...That's okay, Countess!" He managed to disguise his disappointment with false bravado, "I won't bother you... I'll just go and visit Jacci. I owe her a visit, anyway."

The Countess's expression remained grim.

"Unfortunately, Jacci has lessons to catch up with – much like, I'm sure, a certain other truant student around here." Her words stung, penetrating sharply into Ben like a meter-long barb, "And, even after that, she has volunteered to help Haid with her physical therapy."

This, naturally, caught the ever-curious Ben's attention. Since he could guess what 'physical therapy' meant, he supposed he could also take a guess as to what else that meant, but asked, all the same – perhaps out of trepidation that he might have guessed wrong, and what that would mean.

"Miss Haid? Therapy?"

"Yes." The Countess' voice softened, even though her eyes were as hard and sharp as a refined silver blade, "Just a few days ago, Haid completed surgery to make her legs functional, again. But, since she hasn't used them in so long, her leg muscles are incompetent and need to rehabilitate." The look on his face must have appeared quite bewildered – Ben hoped not, but it didn't change the fact that the Countess sighed and spoke a little slower, "In other words, Jacci will be helping Haid learn how to walk, again."

In spite of the twist in Ben's insides, a little ball of relief settled in his stomach, much like how a solution might have some layer of precipitant sticking on the bottom, even when agitated.

"Well... I can go see Ouduar, then." Ben immediately offered. Still, the Countess frowned.

"And today would be the day that he needs to spend with his mother." This elicited a confused glance from Ben, "Ouduar's mother has been, for quite some time, rather ill – not just with a disease, mind you – and incapable of caring for herself. Today, I believe, she is faring rather worse than usual and Ouduar does not wish for any of us to interfere, and thus, he is wholly responsible for her in this condition."

This, too, caught Ben off guard. Unlike Jacci or Haid, whom he couldn't honestly say he was surprised – at least he'd known that Jacci would have school work to do and that Haid might need some kind of medical treatment, given her legs – he hadn't expected Ouduar's mother to be a reason for Ouduar to be alone for the day. He'd known Ouduar still had his mother with him, but it had never impressed on him how big a part of his friend that mother was. That she was sick, that Ouduar was so protective of her, that...

The Countess sighed and interrupted Ben's train of thought. She certainly sounded agitated – so much so that Ben could only recall her sounding like this once.

When she'd appeared in the Unknown Regions, obviously against her will, to recover Jacci.

The memory alone was so shameful that Ben hung his head, penitently, waiting for the Countess to speak.

"I have a business call to make today." She said, slowly, as though considering how to handle this current twist on her plans the same way a master chess player calculates the moves of himself and his opponent, "...I could bring you along, supposing that you can follow the rules I set down for you."

Ben snapped to attention, like a soldier, and nodded fervently. He felt infinitely small before the Countess, especially with the disapproving tone in her voice, despite the fact that she was only the littlest bit taller than he. At the same time, it felt like it was necessary – with the obvious signs of displeasure the Countess was showing, it was more than enough to make him feel squeamish, and Ben's immediate reaction to feeling uncomfortable was to act as though he were perfectly fine, while at the same time, acting even more like an adult than before to make up for his impetuous immaturity.

"But..." The Countess paused, "...Do your parents know you're here?"

This was the single question that Ben had been fearing. How to tell the CMC that he'd come to visit her because he didn't want to be around his father – that he was afraid of whatever his father was going through?

"...My mom doesn't – she left a few days ago with Jaina on some kind of mission..." He mumbled, head dropping down to stare at his feet and hope that the Countess didn't realize that, by not mentioning his father, he was hiding that neither of his parents knew.

Of course, because he was staring at his shoes, Ben didn't realize the brief, amused, and satisfied smirk on the CMC's face, as though she knew full well about his mother's and Jaina's self-proposed quest.

The look was gone by the time Ben looked back up at the Countess's unimpressed grunt.

"And you haven't told your father." She left the unspoken accusation and comment about how worried Ben's father must be about him hanging in the air. This immediately made Ben's face flush with shame, "...Once I am finished with my business, you shall go back to the Temple and I expect you to explain this scenario to your father." And this was an outright accusation – Ben squirmed, even more uncomfortable with the fact that the Countess had already lied and covered for him, enough times. This time, however, he would be on his own. It was enough to make him feel rather put in his place – that was, as childish and helpless as he really was.

"Sieur Ben." Again, the boy snapped to soldier-like attention, "If I permit you to accompany, you shall do what I tell you, when I tell you, without question, and skip the lip."

A tiny corner of Ben's brain noted the odd contrast between the Countess's voice when she began the sentence and as she used such a crude phrase as 'skip the lip'. It sounded more like something his Uncle Han would say, but it also seemed to fall so naturally from her lips. In any case, it was odd to hear, but not so much that Ben dared question her.

"Yes'm." He agreed.

The Countess signaled for Gornash – whom sent Ben a very quick, but incredibly potent glare – for her hat and cane. Upon being granted her request, the CMC ushered Ben out the door and to the speeder, and what a long ride and long day this would prove to be.

* * *

The trip to their destination was long, terse, and silent. Ben didn't dare so much as glance in the Countess's direction for the entirety of it, staring out of the window at the quickly passing scenery of Coruscant. For some reason, it impressed on him how very different the Countess and all of her Household were to the society of virtually any planet and any culture in the galaxy – he had yet to meet anyone or read about any kind of society that came even close to the style of the CMC's Household. For any technology in the CMC's employ, it was always stripped of anything that resembled the usual counterpart of his family or acquaintances.

The inside of the speeder, for example – on the outside, it was a simple, black-painted hub that hovered in midair, but the interior had a bench lining the main floor, covered in dark red velvet, curtains of an arterial blue-violet covering the windows, rather like a room that one might find in the CMC's bizarre House, itself.

Ben almost wondered why that was.

(A/N: Well, obviously, the CMC's a steampunk otaku. Duh.)

But the ride was brief – short enough that Ben was only barely able to gaze out of the window in awe at the contrast, not nearly enough for him to contemplate any theories on why or what she might be gathering her lifestyle from – before they arrived before a large, militaristic looking building of pure white.

"What is this place?" Ben wondered, out-loud, before he noticed the Countess moving to disembark from the vehicle.

"Binneed Finance headquarters." She replied, with unusual brusqueness, "This is where my client asked to meet with me, today."

Ben blinked, puzzling over the information – there was something familiar to the name, but he couldn't think where he'd heard it, before. He had to hurry to scramble out of the interior of the speeder and onto the walking platform. The Countess was already hurriedly striding towards the doors, the hem of her cloak fluttering dangerously close to the heels of her shoes.

"Is there anything you want me to do?" Ben asked, anxiously keeping up on the Countess's stride. When she glanced over her shoulder without even breaking her stride, it was a cold glance.

"For the moment, you may observe the adage 'Do not speak until you are spoken to'." She pointed out, rather severely reminding Ben that she had not brought him along because she'd wanted to. Appropriately ashamed, Ben let his gaze drop back to his feet and continued after the CMC in silence.

It wasn't until they were inside the building's lobby – a small, round room with comfortable brown and yellow marble comprising the walls and floor and made to seem compact, but not claustrophobic, with dark stained wood lining the floor and comprising the furniture – and Ben saw the face behind the counter that he realized why he'd recognized the bank's name. And, indeed, the Countess strode right over to the desk and rapped her gloved knuckles on the countertop. In an instant, Ben saw the bright, square face of Edmond Dantes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your work, Sieur Dantes?" Ben caught a glimpse of the Countess's face – her cool dispassion had evanesced and grown to a fond, gentle jest. The same kind of look that Ben was familiar with from the first few months he'd known her, one which he'd seen less and less frequently.

"Excellency. Not at all – just let me finish tallying this account." Dantes responded, sounding earnestly pleased, despite being quite occupied – rather as though he'd been anxious for the Countess's visit. If one would pause to recall, this reaction was not unlike Ben's own endearment for the woman on more than one occasion, a fact that Ben, himself, recognized in that moment and immediately attempted to dismiss the impropriety of it.

'After all, the Countess was the one to start everything... and it's not like it's just her – I'm also friends with her sister, and there's Ouduar, and I guess I kind of like Miss Haid and Mister Gornash and a few of the other servants in her Household.' Ben's eyes shifted between the Countess – whom had taken the seat before the counter and lifted a foot to gracefully perch on the opposite knee – and Dantes, 'And it's not weird – this is probably like what kids with siblings feel like, sometimes, especially if they're still a kid and their sister is grown-up. They really want to spend time with them, want them to like them...' But that didn't make much sense, more because Ben could think of Jacci, whom did not act like that, at all, with the CMC. If anything, Jacci seemed determined to act in ways that her sister obviously did not approve of.

'Or, like normal kids with their parents...' Ben thought about Ouduar, whom was apparently quite attached to his mother, even if Ben had never met the woman, 'Wanting them to pay attention to you, wanting them to be proud of you, being scared they might not...' And, to Ben's mind that was unacquainted with parent-child psychology and philosophy, it made perfect sense for him to imprint so quickly on the mysterious CMC without even knowing why.

"Right... Sorry to make you wait. Now, what can I do for you, today?" There was a tone to Dantes' voice that was obviously anxious to please the CMC, but without the desperation that Ben's voice might have had in a similar situation – perhaps because he was older, or possibly because he held a position in a bank, a place where he could be of real assistance to someone important like the great CMC.

'Unlike me – all I could do was agree to be a social companion, and I even managed to screw that up.' The thought occurred to Ben with the same unpleasantness that he'd realized he could do nothing to help Jacci when it counted – that had even been smoothed out by his parents, all he'd done was nod and go along with it.

"Please, there's no need to feel troubled." The Countess insisted, leaning further backwards in her chair as though she were trying to relax on one of her personal, oddly-shaped chairs rather than the more conventional seats that populated any major building on Coruscant, "I'd rather be treated as any other customer – you see, I've come with an interest in securing a loan and establishing a trust fund."

These were terms that Ben barely understood, but which obviously struck a note with Dantes, as his features drooped, only slightly.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but we've got mostly limited options on those fronts. This bank doesn't have quite so many profitable affiliates, and the ones we do have tend to be smaller and with lower turnover rates. We don't even deal in shares or investments, really."

It also seemed perfectly understandable for the Countess, because she only continued to smile as she heard this, not even seeming surprised when, for what Ben could tell, Dantes had probably expected her to go storming out.

"If that's the case, then surely you won't object to giving me a sample document to look over and compare the contract terms to those of other establishments I've been considering for this business?" This sent Dantes diving into a drawer to pull out a stack of forms that, even though it looked hefty, Ben could tell was very little in terms of the flimsiplast it took up, relatively speaking.

"Of course. If you have any questions about any of the terms, I hope that you'll ask me for assistance."

Of course Dantes HOPED that the Countess would ask him for assistance. Ben felt a little – what was the word for it? Shut out, perhaps? – hearing someone else so blatantly vying for her attention.

'Yes, definitely like a mother.' Ben decided.

"I did have a question, as a matter of fact." The Countess pleasantly continued, scooping up the forms and neatly fingering through them, as though to be sure everything was as she needed, "How has your sister been doing?"

Oh... yes... Ben recalled the whole reason behind Dantes becoming a client of the Countess's was because he'd had a sister who needed care... and, that Ben had once been sent on an errand for that sister, and never seen them again. And, not surprisingly, he'd proceeded to put the two of them out of his mind, as he thought he would never see them again.

Being reminded, though, was a sharp reminder that Ben had failed to do what the CMC had asked him to do. And it did make him think about the sister...

"She's doing well – I can't thank you enough for everything you did to help her."

"And the little one?" The Countess prompted, "How old would he be, by now? Eight months, was it?"

Ben had also forgotten about this – that Dantes' sister was going to have a baby. So, she'd already had it, and it was a boy.

This fact did not make the unease in Ben's stomach loosen – in fact, other very sharp realizations that he'd had upon meeting Miss Mercedes also came wriggling back, especially now that he was thinking about mothers, of all things.

"Yeah... eight months..." Dantes muttered, casting Ben a look, as though he'd only just realized that he was there and it had suddenly pulled his mood into a sharp downturn. If the Countess noticed it – and as Ben and our audience should suppose, she must have ceased to be even remotely intelligent to not – she did a superb impression of one who had not noticed.

"The last we met, Selle Mercedes hadn't yet picked out a name. I hope she hasn't been spending the last eight months without a name for her own son..." The Countess added, cocking her head to the side with curiosity, "...Unless you have a pet name for your adorable little nephew."

Dantes offered an uncomfortable smile to the Countess, but kept shooting Ben looks filled with eye-deep contempt, and the expression came off as a mixture of the two, opposing personas, one which he clearly did not wish the CMC to observe him displaying.

Ben was beginning to feel rather bombarded. If the Countess hadn't said herself that she hadn't been expecting Ben to show up at her House, Ben would have thought she'd deliberately set up this scenario.

"She had one in mind... but said it would be wrong to decide on it without asking for permission, first." Dantes was still mumbling. The CMC said nothing to this, finally shuffling the documents together until they were perfectly aligned – and rather noisily, as though she'd been waiting for this moment in order to accent the silence she would be leaving. And silent it was – several minutes stretched with Ben nervously biting on his tongue, determined not to screw this up when the Countess was already irritated with him.

That, and his childish desire to be an adult was starting to flare again, wanting to prove himself as more mature under the Countess's scrutiny while Dantes was obviously in a truculent mood where Ben was concerned.

"You..." Dantes muttered, no longer looking at the Countess, but also not looking at Ben – in fact, his attention had diverted to his computer terminal, but Ben knew he was being addressed simply because Dantes had failed to say 'Excellency' somehow, "...You're a Skywalker, aren't you?"

Ben cast the CMC a look, but she was doing him either the service or disservice of pretending she couldn't hear the conversation as she thumbed through the documents, again.

"...Yeah." He finally answered, hoping that he was allowed to, as per the Countess's orders. Dantes sighed, as though to say 'Damn, I was hoping I could avoid talking to you anymore.'

"...And the Skywalkers are related to the Solos, right?" He continued, dark eyes fixed on his screen. Ben couldn't think what he was looking at, though he saw some sort of reflection – one that seemed to have a very different form and shape than just a series of documents or spreadsheets.

"...Yeah..." Ben replied, wondering where this was going, or why it mattered. He looked away from Dantes's face and to his hands, hovering over the keyboard. He wasn't even typing anything. Ben wondered why for that, too, and again cursed his own immaturity holding him back from understanding.

"...We've been living on Coruscant for years, now... I still remember how it was when the Vong had control of the planet..." Ben blinked, then realized that, yes, assuming that he had Dantes's age correct, he would have been alive when Coruscant was known as Yuuzhan'tar, for all intents and purposes. He'd only been a baby, then.

Dantes continued to talk,

"...We heard about the Solos. The battles they fought, the lives they saved, and..." Dantes turned away from his computer and looked Ben in the eye, not without a little disdain, but more agreeably than before, "...Mercedes wanted to name her son after the hero who's the reason we were able to survive, but she figured it would be callous if we didn't ask his family for permission, first..."

With an unpleasant jolt, Ben realized that Dantes was talking about his cousin, Anakin. Whom had been there when he was born, but whom he'd never known. Whom had apparently died defending the galaxy, but whom he so rarely heard his parents or aunt and uncle or cousins talk about. Whom, he vaguely remembered, Jaina and his father comparing him to, but whom he had, in reality, so little in common with.

"Um... really, I couldn't say if it was okay or not." Ben observed. And, as far as he could see, this was very true – if anyone wanted to name their kid after Anakin Solo, they should ask his Aunt Leia or Uncle Han, or maybe one of Ben's cousins, or at least his mom or dad. But him? He barely even remembered Anakin. No, scratch that – he didn't remember him, straight up. How old had he been, anyway – a year? Barely?

And then, Ben realized, the Countess was watching him out of the corner of her eye. Ben glanced in her direction, but she'd looked away – so quickly that Ben wondered if it had been his imagination – but it was enough to make him quite sure that the CMC was growing cross with him. He did his best to straighten up and look like an adult, despite being only nine years of age.

"But, I'm sure that it would be an honor." He managed. Dantes kept glaring, but it softened almost immediately.

"Little Anakin Dantes." The Countess chose this moment to react, and did a nice job filling in the otherwise awkward pause, "How cute." She shuffled the papers, again, then rose from her chair with a smile that seemed to say, for her, "Thank you, Sieur Dantes – I shall be returning with a definitive answer within the week."

Ben found himself following the Countess out of the bank, casting the occasional look back over his shoulder at Dantes and wondering if he'd done the right thing, or not. Curious, but it felt like the CMC had just used him to further one of her own ends. Ben didn't linger on it as the Countess led him out the doors and back into her speeder.

"Gornash, do you have the other forms I need?" She immediately rapped on backs of the seats, leaning forward as though to speak more directly with her valet.

"Here, Milady. From CorpuScant, Galactic Capital Bank, Shir Bank, New Republic Bank, obviously Gasteess Financial, the Interplanetary Security Trust..."

Ben had only gotten to his seat as the Countess took the documents from Gornash's hands and gracelessly, yet gracefully flopped onto her own seat to paw through them. As little as he knew about businesses and banks, he could see, right off-hand, that almost all of the documents the Countess was looking at were thick stacks of files, the smallest easily being three times as thick as the one Dantes had given her.

"Hmm..." She mused out loud, "You would think with all of these pages there would be less fine print, not more."

Ben didn't say anything, just continuing to watch as the Countess sorted the documents into stacks of different sorts. Why, he couldn't tell. The quiet stretched for several minutes as the Countess read her way through the forms, until the inevitable happened and Gornash spoke up from the driver's seat.

"Milady, perhaps if you could wait on those for another few minutes – you have another appointment with a client, yet."

The Countess irritably clicked her tongue.

"Perhaps, but these should be at least organized, first." She replied in a cold, clipped voice. Ben supposed it made sense – he'd seen the Countess and Mister Gornash act this way around each other plenty of times, before.

Well, except in the Unknown Regions – the Countess had actually treated Mister Gornash more like a friend, or a family member then. But, then again, she'd also been under a lot of stress then, what with him and Jacci being kidnapped... Come to think of it, Ben realized, he didn't know much of anything about the Countess – what she thought of things, why she did what she did, if she liked the people in her Household... he still didn't even know her real name...

Ben swallowed, hard. Maybe it was his curious, knowledge seeking nature, but it hurt to realize that there was information about this woman – whom had grown incredibly important to him – that he just didn't know.

"Um..." Finally, Ben managed to say something, talking around the lump in his throat, "Is there anything I can do?"

The Countess didn't look up, still examining the documents as though Ben wasn't there.

"For now, you could not interrupt my concentration." She replied, crisply. Ben felt his jaw snap shut with an audible click of his teeth.

The silence continued for the next few minutes until Gornash stopped the speeder outside another building – the engraving over the arched doorway read Coruscanti Investigation Bureau Headquarters – and the Countess put the documents to the side. Still not sure how he was supposed to act, especially when the Countess obviously didn't want him around, Ben followed and vowed to keep his mouth shut, no matter what happened. This, of course, was foiled when the Countess's client – an old man whose badge read 'R. Deacon' – immediately looked in his direction.

"Aren't you Master Skywalker's kid?" Ben caught the flinch on the Countess's face, which disappeared as the old man turned back to her, "Why's he tagging along?"

"He was visiting when it came time for our appointment, so he's along for the experience." She replied, offering a smile that Ben recognized as being fake, but looked so perfectly in place and sincere. It was certainly a look that Ben was familiar with, so much that he wondered if adults could see through it or not. Of course, as our audience would know as Ben did not, he had seen the Countess direct this smile in his direction without recognizing it.

"...Okay, then – so, what's this about, then?" The old man asked, starting to wobble in a different direction, towards a set of chairs with a table between them, leaning heavily on a cane and his free hand nervously tugging at the corner of his mustache.

"About the recent serial killings this department was investigating." This, naturally, was an interesting topic for Ben, as he'd been aware of SOME stir, but hadn't known much in detail – in typical fashion, his parents, his aunt and uncle, Jaina, Jacen, even the Countess herself, had kept Ben from really hearing anything of importance, "And, since you haven't closed any of those cases, I would care to extend my resources."

Mister Deacon spun so quickly, Ben thought that he'd fall over. His already pale face had lost all it's color, a shade more closely resembling Mister Gornash's hair than anything.

"B-b-but..." He started to stammer, before quickly attempting to regain composure, "I mean, what makes you think we haven't closed those cases? And, for that matter, why do you call them serial killings?

Unlike Mister Deacon, the Countess remained perfectly calm and collected.

"They took place within roughly the same time period, suspected to be the work of a single party, and all had incredibly unusual elements at the scenes. That's the definition of serial murders – though, I suppose it could also be considered spree killings." Mister Deacon continued to scowl, now in a way that seemed to ask a question of it's own, because the Countess continued, "Before you even mention it, there have been more than a few articles describing this incident, and in quite a bit of detail."

"That's funny – I remember forbidding any of my investigators from mentioning anything beyond the general estimates." This didn't rattle the Countess – Ben had expected this, but it just seemed unnatural, especially in the circumstances. And, from his reaction, Mister Deacon also seemed to be rattled by how she seemed to just have an answer for everything.

"What you have or have not allowed your investigators to say to reporters is irrelevant when there are articles written with all of these facts – perhaps they're just sensational journalism, I'll grant you, but the details included are in such poor taste, I can't imagine any publisher would think there was a profit to be gained. The only logical conclusion is that one of your men just has a loose tongue with the reporters."

Mister Deacon continued to glare, but seemed fairly defeated by this information as he sank into one of the chairs. The Countess calmly sat in the other.

"And as for how I can be so sure that you haven't closed any of these cases, it is the same as how I am sure that you also asked for the assistance of the two highest Masters in the Jedi Order – I heard it from the very lips of Master Jade-Skywalker when I saw her, not even a week ago and she was still looking through the case files." Ben had been aware of this, as well, even if he hadn't said anything – after all, he reasoned, if his parents were still involved in it but were trying so hard not to let him know anything about it, he wasn't going to get any answers out of them. At the same time, he hadn't realized that there hadn't been any holoreports on the topic in over a year, and thus missed the silent accusation and shame that the Countess was laying on Mister Deacon's head.

As it was, he attempted to appear composed and changed tacks, quickly.

"I also don't see how it's any of your business or what you're doing, snooping around here – you're not with the government, and civilians aren't given this sort of thing."

The Countess just kept smiling.

"If I was asking out of curiosity, I would understand. As I am asking for a particular file, though, I think you shall understand, momentarily." She extended a datapad – where she'd gotten it, Ben was completely stumped on. It was as though she'd drawn it up out of thin air, or out of her hat, like a magician – and pressed the power button, illuminating the screen for Mister Deacon. He took it and Ben saw his watery eyes grow wide examining the file.

"Where... how did you get this?" So, from that, Ben figured it was something like an important document or form. What, though...

"That is neither here, nor there. The reason I have it, and what I'm asking of you are the same – I have a different client whom contacted me wanting at least information about a family member's death, whom was a victim of these killings." The Countess coolly informed him, taking the datapad back with the tips of her gloved fingers, as though she thought her equipment might be contaminated after being in contact with the man.

Ben looked between the two, wondering exactly what was going on. It might have been the Countess's wish-granting business, yes, but he just had this feeling that something was off in this.

"Hunanga, Horassa." Mister Deacon mumbled, pulling out his own datapad and tapping out a code. Ben saw the screen light up, "Well... I can't give you much information – just the file we've got here."

"That will do." Was all the Countess said, tapping the edge of her own in a clear signal that she wanted the data transmitted. Mister Deacon shot her yet another look, but punched a button on his screen and Ben could clearly see two sets of lights blinking as a sure sign of file transfer.

"Anything else, before you waste more of my time?" Deacon finally asked, when it was apparent that the transfer was complete.

"One more." The Countess put away her datapad – even though Ben was watching it carefully, he didn't see where she put it, so it seemed to just disappear – and took out her wallet, "You mentioned government and civilians, forgetting that I am not a civilian of this government. And as such, I have no taxes under this jurisdiction."

Ben kept blinking back and forth. He didn't know anything about taxes and such, but he did know that they paid for government stuff. So, whatever the Countess was going on about... He saw her remove a chip and slide it across the tabletop.

"But, at the same time, I also don't care to be irresponsible, even if it differs from how it might be legally defined."

Ben recognized the look that Deacon was now shooting the Countess – it was the same look that Ben had seen his mother give other adults when she didn't like them, or thought they were rotten. He was, thus, not surprised in the least when Deacon sharply slapped his fingers down on the proffered chip and slid it right back towards the Countess.

"I appreciate the thought, but..." The tone in his voice made it very clear that he had no intention of finishing after that 'but'.

Considering her on-and-off tart attitude of the day, Ben was quite surprised when the Countess simply smiled and took it back.

"If you say so. I suppose my presumption of the department suffering from budget cuts – after all, why enlist the aid of the Jedi Order unless you lacked the resources to staff more men – were off the mark, then."

Deacon shot the Countess another look. This one, Ben supposed, was what people would call a 'dirty' look. But she, apparently, paid it no heed, as she stood up and took her datapad with her, only pausing to just barely tip her hat to the old man.

"If that's all, then." The Countess breezed away, and her cloak fluttered like a giant wing that wrapped around and over Ben and swept him away, with her.

Back in the speeder, her attitude changed, yet again, to one of a busy, serious, but still gleeful child. As she bounced onto the seat, she leaned through the gap towards Gornash in the driver's seats, handing him the datapad.

"There we are, Gornash – everything we needed." Her voice climbed in pitch to the girlish tone Ben had heard her use a few times before. Now, he wasn't so sure if he liked it or not – thus far, every time he'd heard her use this voice was after some moment when she'd been uncharacteristically hard-hearted.

As though to cover-up for her coldness, or maybe to make up for it.

"And it was good to see that Commissioner Renard Deacon hasn't changed."

As Ben climbed in after her, he saw Mister Gornash crane his neck to look directly at Ben. He could see a look in Mister Gornash's eyes – one that wasn't murderous, or even malicious, so that was good, but it still felt like he was trying to communicate something and Ben was seeing it, too stupid and too childish to read it – before he looked back at his employer.

"Milady, is this appropriate?" He murmured, discreetly enough that Ben wondered if he was meant to hear or not.

"I see no reason why not." The Countess simply replied, turning around and promptly seating herself with the documents and browsing through them, again. Gornash shot Ben another very heavy look, then returned to his former position.

"By the way, Milady – while you were inside, Madame Celchu called and said she would need to reschedule your appointment with her." He added, though it was barely audible over the noise of the engine and with his face turned completely away from the passenger's seats. Still, the Countess heard him with perfect clarity, as though she knew what he was saying without even needing her ears.

"Oh? Did she mention why?" This actually seemed to be of some pressing urgency, because the Countess actually looked away from what she was reading in order to ask the question. And, given her track record of allowing herself to be distracted, Ben knew that just looking away meant she was seriously invested in something.

"No, Ma'am." Gornash answered, warily. The Countess promptly threw down her work.

"Well then?" She demanded, impatiently poking the back of the driver's seat, "We must hurry if we're to catch her."

To this, Gornash didn't reply except the anticipated 'Yes'm' and the vehicle jolted forward at a speed that Ben was quite sure was unsafe. If he had been in the Countess's seat, he would have gone flying, which meant, of course, that the CMC herself didn't even flinch at the acceleration. It was enough to make Ben even more insurmountably curious – what did the Countess mean by 'catch her', why was she so eager to see Miss Celchu, whoever that was, what could their appointment have been for, why this lady was calling it off...

"Countess." Ben forced himself to say. The CMC shot him a glance that seemed particularly barbed – as though she knew what questions were going through his mind and was just daring him to ask even one of them. Ben felt his voice stick in his throat and choked.

"Yes, Sieur Ben?" She finally replied, her voice also carefully sharpened at the edges, as though she were outright saying 'You have the audacity to say something after I specifically told you not to say anything? How dare you? This had better be important.' And Ben couldn't think of a thing to say that would come even close to meeting those expectations, so he tried the best he could,

"...I'm sorry." The pressure in the air, the heaviness of the silence, seemed so great that Ben felt his head bowing, against his will, until he stared at the floor. Thus, he didn't catch the briefest of smiles that crossed the Countess's face, but disappeared by the time Ben looked back up at her.

"For what?" She asked, in a very demanding question. And, to that, Ben wasn't quite sure how to answer. After today, he was feeling quite miserably apologetic for any number of things, none of which he was sure how to say it without sounding incredibly petulant or... or... what was the word for trying to be more of anything than something was? Pretentious, yes, that was the word.

Now... how to say any of what he was thinking in a way that the Countess would take him seriously?

"For some particular transgression?" The Countess pressed, obviously growing impatient with his silence, "Or are you just SAYING it?"

"No!" He insisted, "No, I mean... I just meant..." His voice stumbled, trying to find the right words, the right explanation. What was he supposed to say? "I just wanted..."

He just wanted the Countess to not be angry with him anymore.

The Countess huffed, her eyes gleaming – it might have been anger, or it might have been some other, more adult emotion. Something that Ben didn't know about, that he didn't understand.

"Honestly, you're such a child." She muttered, as though disappointed with him.

And he was. Childish. Useless.

The speeder stopped, jolting so harshly that Ben fell out of his seat and flat onto the floor. The Countess popped out of her seat and onto the sidewalk, not even noticing his pratfall. The door snapped shut right behind her, sealing Ben into the cab of her hovercar and leaving him to stare out of the window. The CMC breezed right up to the door of the apartment, rather like she was completely weightless, and practically tackle a lady with bright white hair – the lady Ben remembered seeing at that party his family had been at several months ago.

He could also see the Countess take hold of the lady's hand and squeeze. He could imagine that the Countess was saying something along the lines of how worried she was, that she wanted to be sure this lady was alright... but, then again, Ben wasn't sure, and just imagining the Countess saying what he thought she was, it already...

"Jealous?" Ben jumped and looked over his shoulder to see Mister Gornash watching him in the rearview mirror, like those green eyes of his could read his mind and see straight into his head. Ben looked away, quickly.

"No." He mumbled, not entirely sure what the word meant – well, he knew that jealousy was a bad thing to be, and that it meant being unhappy about someone else being happy or something... but he also knew that it was a more complicated, adult word. That it was bad for a very different reason than just being what it was.

He was also pretty sure, for whatever reason, that 'jealous' was exactly what he was.

"Ben." Mister Gornash sounded very sharp, "I'm the Household expert on envy. Don't try."

What that meant, Ben wasn't sure.

"...Not that I blame you." Still, Ben didn't answer – he could see the lady with the wintery hair and the Countess still talking. The Countess was holding onto the lady's hand with both of hers, and Ben could see the flash of something between the Countess' fingers, like a burst of light, like a laser colored purple and green.

The lady was smiling. It seemed easy and full of energy. Free from any of the worries Ben felt pressing on his face when he tried to smile around the CMC, filled with power that he didn't realize could even permeate such a simple gesture.

It wasn't until Ben glanced away, just for a quick blink of an eye, that he caught Mister Gornash also staring out the window. It was enough that Ben pried himself away from the window and sat back down on the seat, feet kicking restlessly, but his determination to be mature resolved.

He was thus, rather surprised as the Countess pounced back into the speeder.

"Well, at least we needn't worry." She said, almost as though talking to herself, "Madame Celchu's just had a long day is all." Ben glanced back out the window and the lady had already disappeared back indoors.

"That's good to hear, Milady." Gornash agreed, neutrally.

"To the Temple, then." She rapped on the back of Gornash's seat, "The quicker, the better."

There was no discussion, nor any sort of dialogue as the trip began. This, Ben knew would be at least ten minutes from this place to the Temple. So, if he was going to say anything, he would have to be careful with his time. The minute he forced himself to wait before attempting to speak felt inscrutably long.

"...Countess..." He started, pausing when the CMC shot him a bored, dull, yet somehow venomous look, if only to steel himself from looking away as he was so used to doing when she glared at him, "...I want to apologize for the trouble I caused you, today."

The hard look on the Countess's face didn't fade. Ben did his best to not look away, even though it was becoming close to unbearable to keep looking her in the face.

Eight minutes.

"...It was wrong of me to come without asking... and I should have been more considerate when you said you had work to do... so..."

Her expression barely changed, for whatever reason, Ben could have sworn the air lightened and made it easier to think.

"Sieur Ben." The Countess finally said, breaking her gaze to look out the window at the passing buildings and scenery. Six and half minutes.

Ben shot the window a look, then glanced back at the Countess.

"I will tell you right now, I have always considered you quite the exceptional child." Exceptional. Ben knew THAT word – it was like being special, except better. It was an adult form of being special. So what if she'd still called him a child? He liked being 'exceptional', "Even among the other members of my Household. And a great number of them agree with me. As does your father."

Ben wasn't quite sure what to think of hearing his father mentioned. That his father thought of him as 'exceptional'... he didn't like that quite as much as when the Countess said it... but it was still an adult word. It was 'phenomenal'. It was 'remarkable'. It was 'outstanding'. It wasn't bad.

"The catch is: We expect you to ACT like it." Ah.

Looking back, Ben would swear that he'd seen that coming, even though it had truthfully never crossed his mind. After hearing it, the many instances that Ben had been thinking about over the course of the day came flashing back – from the many ways he'd failed to be as grown-up as he wanted to be around the Countess, down to the little things he'd done wrong, even on a daily basis, much like a child in trouble will consider tiny transgressions like not picking up toys or washing behind their ears.

The next five minutes disappeared, almost literally, before the speeder pulled up before the steps of the Temple of the Jedi Order. Ben was out without needing to be told and hurried up the steps, knowing full well that the Countess was following on his heels even though he couldn't hear her.

As anyone might be able to suppose, Ben truly did dread confronting his father – even looking him in the face, let alone explaining that he'd disappeared for the day because he hadn't wanted to see his father – and it was, as such, a surprise to almost all involved when the Countess ended up following Ben all through the Temple and up to his father's meditation chamber before Master Skywalker even knew she was there.

"Ben? Excuse me, Excellency – I hadn't realized you were coming." Were his first words. The Countess didn't say anything, which, in and of itself said more than enough about what she expected from Ben.

"...She... she didn't mean to stop by – she's dropping me off."

Ben tried not to meet his father's eyes, but when he did risk a glance, he could see the real, honest surprise. And it wasn't just at the Countess's appearance – Ben saw his father's eyes shifting back and forth between himself and the CMC.

His father...

"Drop off?"

His father hadn't even realized he was gone.

"I snuck out of the Temple, earlier today." Ben explained, more to the floor than to either of the adults, all his spine having been sapped out of him and now replaced with a horrifying, weighty shame – made even heavier as he could feel both his father's and the Countess's eyes on him, "...I went to visit her without telling your or asking anyone's permission, and I caused her a lot of trouble today... so..."

Ben left out his reasons for wanting to hide at the House for awhile. If either the Countess or his father wanted to know, neither of them said a word.

"I see." Was all his father said. Honestly, Ben couldn't say he was surprised at his father's unimpressed reaction.

What he didn't understand was why that lack of surprise made it sting so much more – why he was still too puerile to get why he wasn't surprised, why his father was so calm, why that bothered him so much...

"Ben, go to your room." His father finally said, in a tired, quiet voice. Ben knew that voice, "We'll talk about this later."

Feet dragging against his own will, Ben stumbled away. For whatever reason, it had been a very long day.

* * *

Luke had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and just flat out groan in front of the CMC. The last week had been bad enough with his own personal worries and troubles, he was running low on sleep, and this was not helping.

But, of course, admitting that would not change anything, nor would it help. The only thing admitting his own frustration and weariness would do was insult his company, and probably send the message around the Temple that Master Skywalker was starting to lose it. With everything else that was going on – his own foggy sense in the Force, Jaina and Jacen's odd behavior, Tenel Ka arriving with news that she couldn't feel the Force, at all...

Admittedly, Luke's failings as a father did seem quite petty compared to all that the Jedi Order might be suffering. The least he could do was maintain his calm and composure.

"Excellency... thank you for being so patient." Luke finally managed, "And I honestly apologize for any trouble Ben caused you, today."

The CMC, to her credit, did not respond with sarcasm or disdain. If anything, her chilly disposition seemed to completely melt. Her eyes softened and her whole face and posture relaxed, like wax softening just before it turned to liquid.

"He caused some trouble by showing up, unannounced. For the remainder of the day, he behaved exactly as I dictated and did not trouble me." She tilted her head in a childish gesture that, had Luke been less fatigued, would have seemed too much so, "It seems, though, the real trouble lies closer to home in this case." Luke blinked at her, blankly, "...Commander Skywalker, forgive my impertinence, but you do not seem wholly well, at the moment."

Luke's response was to continue blinking, completely unsure how to reply to this assertion.

"Of course, that could be a misconception on my part." She went on, holding up her hands as though she were embarrassed to make the situation awkward. Her voice even changed in it's tone – she seemed even more like an overly curious young one whose empathy had melded with her curiosity in the most inappropriate of ways, "I just want to be sure all is well, if there's any way I could help, or if my best aid would be to mind my own business."

Luke let his eyes slip shut, with the cool feel of his eyelids over his corneas. If he were to outright say it, he was not in the mood to deal with this. But he wouldn't outright say it.

"No. I'm grateful for your understanding." He managed to reply, his mind already trying to grope for some idea of what he was supposed to do, now. How was he supposed to react to Ben's behavior, as of late, when he hadn't even noticed his own son going missing, let alone spent any time with him to know what was wrong.

And it didn't help that the Force was no help on this – Ben was still as shut off from him through the Force as ever, but Luke couldn't even reach into it for understanding about what was going on around his son.

"Maybe, if he wants to spend so much time with you, I should have him spend a month doing chores around your house or something..." Luke mumbled, more thinking out loud than intending to say it. However, as the words came out of his mouth, the CMC reacted with a very intriguing gleam in her eye.

"...That's an idea..." She watch Luke with a predatory smirk, almost as though she wanted, very badly, to leap at this chance. Luke was about to frown before the attitude dropped, "...But perhaps it's an idea worth sleeping on. Shall I call on you tomorrow, if you would be still amenable to the thought? And if not..." She shrugged, as though to say 'Well, I guess I'll just have accidentally wasted some of both of our time.'

"Yes." Luke agreed, leaving it up to the Countess to interpret what he was agreeing to. Certainly, to the idea of sleeping on the idea, but as for all the rest of the statement... The Countess offered one of her sweet, half-girlish, half-womanly smiles, and politely excused herself from the room, still leaving Luke to grapple with the monstrous problem of how he was supposed to deal with Ben, and not just in this small matter, but at large.

He hated to think about it, but maybe he was just too old for this, and Ben was still too young. By the time Ben was old enough and adult enough to understand and be treated like an adult, Luke would be an old man. It also didn't help that the other adults in the family agreed that Ben was still far too young to be dealing with any of the serious problems any one of them were facing, but the CMC seemed insistent on treating Ben like a grown-up. If Mara or Han or Leia, or maybe even one of the twins... Krethin Hells, maybe if any of the other Masters in the Jedi Order also thought Ben could handle some more grown-up treatment, Luke might have found it easier.

"Master Skywalker?" Luke hadn't realized he was staring at the floor until he heard the voice quite high over his head. And, of all things, when he looked up, he had to look QUITE up to see directly into the face of Mister Triclops, "...Sorry... I did not mean to intrude..."

Luke had to shake himself – he hadn't even heard this behemoth of a man sneak up on him. Which would have been much less impressive, if Luke wasn't absolutely sure Mister Triclops hadn't even intended to.

"...Don't..." Luke held up a hand, already quite tired of hearing other people apologize when he wasn't even sure what for, "...Please..." And, maybe, in his own way, Luke just wanted to be left alone.

Triclops responded by cocking his head to the side and blinking. Then, Luke could see him glancing in the direction Ben had gone – how long had Triclops been standing there, watching, anyway?

"...Long day?" He finally asked. Again, Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The last few minutes suddenly felt excruciatingly long, and that was, indeed, enough to make the day very long. Luke nodded, wondering how much worse it could get, "I see..."

That was it? Just 'I see'? Luke caught himself blinking up at Triclops, again – how did he get to be so tall, anyway? – whom simply continued to blink down at Luke, as though waiting for more information to be forthcoming but not wanting to pressure him or intrude with any prying questions.

Luke wondered... his troubles with Ben, his worries as a father, he'd usually talk those over with Mara. But Mara wasn't here. And who was Luke going to ask about such things, now? Han? Maybe, when all of the Solo children weren't damaged or gone, like they were, now. It would be callous, now, though. Leia? She had worries of her own – Luke hadn't needed the Force to know something was bothering his sister. Any of his students? Yes, and have the news spread around the Temple – and possibly outside it – that Master Skywalker was starting to lose it in his old age and he couldn't even control his own son, oh and he was losing touch with the Force on such a horrible scale that it wasn't even helping to guide him with such a trivial matter? No, thank you. Besides, he was still their Master, and even if there wasn't a barrier of respect, Luke did feel a wall firmly in place – one of responsibility, one that said it was still his job to keep personal problems from interfering, and it wasn't their job to take care of him. It would just make them worry.

And, on that note, he couldn't very well go to Ben and ask what he was supposed to do to be a good father – Ben was his son. He was the parent. It was HIS job to take care of Ben. Not the other way around.

On the other hand... Luke felt rather foolish for not having thought of it until just now, but with Triclops staring straight at him, it had occurred to him that Triclops was already helping him with the troubles his nightmares were causing him – so far, none of them had been really prophetic, but that reassurance had at least helped Luke to relax more than enough – but the man also wasn't a student, nor family, but was also quite older, and, even if Luke didn't remember it, Luke had also figured out that they'd met, somewhere, before and...

"Mister Triclops..." Luke began, focusing his gaze towards the window, as though trying to meditate on the setting sun's glare going straight into his eyes, "Do you have any children?"

Triclops' eyes widened – Luke had noticed that when Triclops did that, his eyes always opened up enough to be perfectly round – before they quickly dropped half-shut and the white-haired man looked away. He also, Luke had noticed, always made the same noise when thinking about something that was either incredibly personal, painfully nostalgic, or both – this kind of moan or grunt in the back of his throat, like he was trying to swallow his answer and keep the emotion from showing on his face.

This, of course, was answer enough. Luke immediately wished he'd found a different way of asking.

"I'm sorry... that was tactless of me." He offered. Triclops shook his head, still looking away. The shadows cast on his face, along with the tightness of his expression in an effort to keep his thoughts from showing, made him appear at least a dozen years older, on top of how old he already had to be.

"...No... that is..." Triclops stammered, then swallowed, then grunted again to recover his stable voice, "...I assume you and your son are having... difficulties...?"

Difficulties. That was a nice word for it.

"...When will Medic Orewahime be back?" Luke tried again, more diplomatically, this time. Triclops took this much better, as he was able to answer much more readily,

"Late, she said – Kenda has been making trips back to the clinic on the Lower Levels after she has finished here." Luke nodded, almost relieved.

"I'll keep you company until she gets back." Triclops's eyebrows shot up his forehead, before he inclined his head. To anyone watching, it might have seemed like a gesture of thanks, but Luke saw an unspoken response.

'I understand.'

* * *

"Well, Gornash – WE shall be paying Commander Skywalker a visit, tomorrow." The CMC chirped, giddily, back in the speeder. Her steward shot her a glare in the mirror.

"Shall we, Milady?" He asked, mildly. His employer giggled, darkly. Only she could make such a sound so dark.

"Of course. And Ben shall be joining US on our yearly trip – you know, with all the usual stops." This was apparently enough to spark quite more than a glare – Gornash braked the vehicle quite viciously.

"You're awfully confident that the Master Skywalker will so willingly let his son go for a few months. And on a trek all across the galaxy, at that." His tone demanded an explanation before he took the speeder so much as another meter across the city. The CMC kept that insufferable, self-satisfied grin on her face, like some kind of demented clown.

"He's not comfortable with his own son – they won't talk, they won't resolve their issues, no progress will be made, whatsoever. So, my solution to let absence make Ben's heart grow fonder will appeal to him." She explained, far too calm and relaxed for Gornash's tastes, "Besides..." The CMC let her feet kick, childishly, "Brother will be glad for the opportunity to 'drop the farce' as he'd put it."

Gornash's face paled at this news. Then, the CMC kicked the back of his seat – a signal that it was time to go home and deliver this news to the other members of this plot.

A/N: Unholy hell! It's almost time for me to go back to college. So, as if these chapters weren't coming slowly as it was, it'll take even more time... or maybe not, now that I'll have kind of a schedule to stick to... I dunno...

I liked writing in all those little details about the Countess's plot playing out, right under Ben's nose, and with him not even realizing it. But, if you'll notice, there was also a lot of character development, relationships being fleshed out... and it just occurred to me that Luke and Triclops' scenes are awfully bromance-y... Oh well. Maybe that's just me.


	31. Author's note (Again)

Hey, there, folks - this is your lovely author checking in. I noticed, I've got a few more followers for this story, and I know a LOT of you are reading, and I might be rather slow with chapters. Again, I've got college, I'm trying to find a job, and I've got two other fics here at that I'm working on, not to mention original fiction at the sister site, . If you're bored, stroll on over and check those out - and if you're especially bored with waiting for the CMC to update, I've also got a piece of original fiction that I started working on after starting the Star Wars CMC, which is a completely original retelling of the Count of Monte Cristo, with my own little twists and spins on it, entitled My Master's Infinity - please, absolutely do check it out, if only so you can laugh at me for taking myself way to seriously.

Okay, I've got the whoring out of the way, now onto why I'm breaking the rules and posting an author's note as a separate chapter - because, really, this is for you guys. I have been considering, for some time, giving the CMC fic a revamp - going back and editing chapters that exist for such things as style and tone, fact checking, tightening up the plot and trying to cut out a few dangling characters and plot threads. I mean, seriously, go read the first few chapters, then skip ahead and read the most recent chapters - some of the inconsistencies make me cringe.

That being said, if y'all don't really mind the CMC being imperfect as it is, I'll leave it. But, I do want your opinions. So, on my profile page, I've set up a poll - Please… please, please, please, please, PLEASE! Go vote your opinion. Do you think the fic is fine as it is? Do you think it could use a little tweaking? Would you burst into flames and gather your hamlet to chase me down with pitchforks and torches if I so much as THINK of altering the story I've already written? Or would it cause you unending, agonizing pain if I left the CMC without refining it to perfection? Let me know, and we'll go from there.

Have a happy holiday, if y'all don't hear from me before the New Year and… yeah, sayanora, bye-bye.


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Star Wars, Drama, Suspense